


Ordained

by alyjude_sideburns



Series: The 'Actor & Jockey' Series [1]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 16:58:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyjude_sideburns/pseuds/alyjude_sideburns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair is a jockey (come on, suspend your disbelief) and Jim a famous actor - can they make a relationship work?<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the challenge: "Jim and Blair - but not." This has been completely revised and beta'd by the gang at alyjude's cellar: Bluewolf, Arianna and Starwatcher - all of whom made it a much better story! Thank YOU!  
> Originally written in 1998 on senad and revised in 2008.
> 
> There is a scene of attempted non-con but not graphic or realized.
> 
> There is a sequel, as promised at the end of this story. It's called, "The Long Run" and can be found here at A03.

 

 

Simon Banks loved this time of day. He stood in front of his stables enjoying the first rays of a dawning sun as it bathed the fields in its early morning glow. A fine, low mist flowed over the grass and around the flurry of activity, courtesy of his trainers as they headed out with the horses for their morning exercises. God, how he loved the sounds of hoofs hitting wet grass, the snorts of the magnificent animals, their tails switching, the cloud of their breaths hanging on the air. There was no other time like it for him.

He followed the swishing tail of his newest - and favorite -acquisition, Little Stogie, as he was trotted past. Simon's gaze traveled upward - and his expression of enjoyment died as he took note of who rode the horse.

Blair Sandburg.

What the hell was his best jockey doing out on the field for routine morning exercises? One of the sport's youngest, and most successful, jockeys in the last decade, taking a horse out at five in the morning?

Unacceptable.

"Sandburg!"

Hearing the firm, but loudly, said name, the jockey in question looked over his shoulder at Simon...and smiled. He added insult to injury by waving innocently before turning his mount and trotting lazily back to where Simon stood, hands on hips.

"Mind telling me why the number one jockey in the world is doing something as mundane as taking Little Stogie through his morning paces?"

Not in the least cowed by the fierce expression on Simon's face, the young man simply smiled and asked rather cheekily, "You do want to win on Saturday, right?"

Expression softening, Simon grudgingly said, "That's the idea, yeah."

"So stop asking questions and let me get to work. Stogie is chomping at the bit and raring to go. And by the way, isn't that movie crew due any minute?"

"Damn. I completely forgot. You'll be available later, right? The producer wants the cast and crew to meet you."

"I'll be here." He then wiggled his eyebrows and shook his hands in the air as he added, "Gosh, Simon, I just caaaan't wait. How will I handle it?"

"Very funny, Blair. Very funny."

At Blair's laugh, Simon chuckled, gave Little Stogie a swat on the rump, and waved both man and beast away, Blair's laughter floating back to him on the cool, morning air.

***

As scheduled, the movie crew began arriving at precisely eight, the large trailers, trucks and RV's swinging into the long drive that would eventually take them down to the old practice track. Simon was on hand to welcome them but then could only stand back and watch in amazement as they turned the set of currently unused stables into a movie set.

By ten, the film crew was already shooting a scene.

Simon, one of the wealthiest men in Cascade, Washington… Hell, in the nation, certainly didn't need the money received from allowing his home, Banks Folly, to be used for filming. So why was he doing it, he asked himself as he watched the ground being trampled by heavy equipment. Because one of the producers, David Tilson, was a good friend and, damn it, he'd simply been unable to say no. Of course, the charities that would benefit from the premiere night of the movie, which had been one of Simon's stipulations, wasn't a bad reason either.

Now, observing the crew at work, Simon had to admit there might be another reason - namely the fact that he was finding the process of movie-making fascinating. At the moment, he was watching a confrontation between the hero and the bad guy, a scene that was evidently going to escalate into some heavy violence. Simon was really getting into it when, just as it appeared things were going to heat up, the director, Tom Van Parton, yelled, "Cut!"

The action ceased immediately and, smiling, the two actors parted, both going for towels, make-up and water while the director ordered everything to be set up for the stuntmen. Simon caught a glimpse of his friend, who was now talking to the star of the film, James Ellison. David pointed in Simon's direction, Ellison smiled and nodded agreeably. A moment later, both men were making their way toward him.

As they drew near, James Ellison, academy-award winning actor, number one at the box office for the last five years, and recently voted the Sexiest Man Alive by People Magazine, smiled his famous five-thousand-mega watt-ticket selling-popcorn buying-smile.

Almost hypnotically, Simon found himself returning the grin as David said," Simon, I'd like you to meet Jim Ellison, our star. Jim, this is my old friend, Simon Banks."

The two men shook hands, both sizing up the other. Call it gaydar or something else, but Simon recognized a kindred spirit in the famous man standing in front of him.

"Mr. Banks, I've been looking forward to meeting you and seeing this spectacular ranch I've heard so much about."

"Thank you, but please, call me Simon."

"And I'm Jim." He waved an arm around, indicating the cameras and equipment, and asked with a raised eyebrow, "How do you like film-making so far?"

"Actually, I'm enjoying it immensely. I just had no idea how much waiting around you have to do."

Both Jim and David laughed heartily at that before David said, "There's a saying in this business which you've now found to be very appropriate: 'Hurry up and wait.' That pretty much describes what we do on a daily basis, but when the cameras finally do roll, there's no one I'd rather have in front of them than Jim."

"That's what you say now, but next week you'll be extolling the virtues of Leonardo." In spite of the words, Jim was smiling, affection clear in his eyes. Turning back towards Simon, he added, "They're going to be shooting with our stuntmen for a bit so I was wondering if would it be possible to get a tour and," he looked hopeful, "maybe a glimpse of Little Stogie? I've heard a great deal about this new wonder horse of yours."

Even if Simon had wanted to refuse, and he most certainly didn't, he wouldn't have. You don't say no to someone like Jim Ellison. His magnetism on screen was famous, but in person, it was even more compelling, so much so, that if Simon hadn't already been in a very happy and committed relationship...well, this man might have been more than he could - or would - have resisted.

Giving his watch a quick glance, he mentally reviewed the schedule for the day - and finally nodded. "I'd be honored to give you the grand tour myself. If we start up at the house, Little Stogie will be back and stabled by the time we've made our way down to the new stables. I'll also be able to keep a promise."

"A promise?" Jim asked, curious.

Simon had his own version of a megawatt smile and he flashed it now. "I told my partner, Joel, that he'd have a chance to meet you. He's one of your biggest fans."

"Can't have our host breaking any promises, then," Jim said with a grin. "Please, lead on."

***

It took the better part of an hour for the two men to make their way up to the two story Georgian house, thanks to the many stops required in order for Simon to show off the grounds. They'd toured the rose garden, the arbor, the vegetable and herb garden and, finally, the area Simon had referred to as his 'playground'.

For Jim, a wealthy man in his own right thanks to having parlayed his success into sound investments, Banks Folly was incredible. And now, standing in Simon's favorite spot, gazing out over the Olympic-sized swimming pool with its attached jacuzzi, he was truly awed. There was a bathhouse tucked into the corner end of the area, but connected to the house via a covered extension, which was a brilliant architectural move, one that Jim wished he'd thought of with his home. At the other end of the pool, in the shade of two large oaks, sat a massive brick BBQ surrounded by tables, lounge chairs and a lovely flagstone walk that meandered throughout the 'playground'. To top everything off, some truly incredible landscaping emphasized the natural beauty of the surrounding land, including the Cascade mountains that formed a magnificent backdrop.

"I'm impressed, Simon. Who's the landscape artist?"

Simon grinned at the compliment even as he was lifting a hand to wave at someone coming from the house. "You're about to meet him."

Jim followed his host's gaze to see a man, almost as tall as Banks, striding toward them. As he reached Simon, he was pulled in close for a hug and a kiss, then released, but with Simon's arm remaining around his waist.

"Jim, I'd like to introduce you to your biggest fan, the creator of Bank's Folly and my life partner, Joel Taggart. Joel, this is Jim Ellison."

Joel reminded Jim of a big, cuddly bear and, as they shook hands he realized he couldn't help but like him.

"Mr. Ellison, it's a real pleasure to meet you in person,” Joel said enthusiastically. “I'm not ashamed to admit that I've got to be one of your biggest fans."

"Please, it's Jim. And after what I've seen of this beautiful home, I'm now one of your most ardent followers."

'You like our home then?" Joel asked, clearly pleased by Jim's words.

"Very much."

Simon gave Joel's waist another squeeze, his pride clearly evident. "But he hasn't actually seen the house, only the grounds, something we can remedy now."

"We might want to put the tour of the house on hold a bit,” his partner suggested. “The horses should be back and this is the perfect chance for Jim to see our real pride and joy."

"Damn, you're right. Do you mind a slight change of plan, Jim?"

Ellison shook his head, "Not at all. As I said earlier, I'm eager to see the wonder horse."

As Simon and Joel started to lead the way, Jim asked, "Is it true that Blair Sandburg will be riding Little Stogie in the Cascade Aspen Sweepstakes this weekend?"

"I wouldn't let anyone else take him to the win. In my humble opinion, he's the greatest jockey of our time."

Jim held up his hands in surrender as, chuckling, he said, "Hey, you'll get no argument from me, I couldn't agree more about his skill."

Walking down to the other set of stables, Jim found himself feeling at ease with his hosts in a way that he hadn't experienced in years and, as a result, felt confident asking his next question. "I'm curious about the rumors that Sandburg is planning to go free-lance. Any truth to them?"

"Trust me," Simon assured. "That's nothing more than wishful thinking on the part of some very jealous owners. Blair would never leave…you see, he's like a son to us."

Joel nodded. "Blair's mother died when he was ten." He smiled softly at a sudden memory. "Naomi was the original flower child; a real free spirit. She was gifted and loving but had to be on the move. She'd often take Blair with her but there were several summers when she left him with us and my sister, Joan, who was living here at the time. She and Naomi had been best friends since high school." Joel gave a small shake of his head before adding, "Even back then, Blair loved horses and riding so we encouraged him.

"When Naomi was diagnosed with cancer, she insisted that if anything happened to her, Simon and I should take him." His dark eyes saddened even as he added, "So Blair's been with us ever since. And a greater gift we could never have been given."

Smiling in understanding, Jim said, "I can see why the rumors are just that; rumors."

The sounds of hooves plopping down on soft dirt alerted the men to the arrival of the racing string. Jim watched in fascination as the parade of horse flesh passed them. He scanned each rider in his attempt to find one particular face; a face he'd seen over two years ago on the cover of Sports Illustrated. He was disappointed not to find him.

Simon, correctly reading his expression, said, "Blair must have finished early, which means Little Stogie did well this morning. We'll find them over at the main stable."

Simon once again led the way as they entered the building. Inside, the smell of horse and hay permeated the cool air. Gentle snuffling sounds and the occasional pawing hoof indicated several occupied stalls. Simon came to a halt in front of the largest and Jim got his first look at Little Stogie.

And Blair.

The young rider had his back to the three men and was in the process of scrubbing down the great horse. At approximately 5'7, he was tall for a jockey and certainly taller than Jim expected, but that might have been the riding boots he was wearing. Faded blue jeans hugged his slender frame and a blue pullover sweater with suede elbow patches completed his riding ensemble, if one didn't count the leather strip that held back long, curly, chestnut hair.

Jim Ellison was used to being admired, sought after, and was propositioned on a daily basis. He'd even been the victim of a stalker early in his career. He was equally used to being surrounded by beautiful people, thanks to working in a business where beauty was the norm - but not once in fifteen years had he ever been touched by any of it. Nor had he ever felt anything for anyone, other than friendship - but now, in a stable in Cascade, Washington, watching a young man groom a horse, he felt a stirring in the pit of his stomach, a nervous excitement that seemed to grab hold of him and shake him to his very foundation. He found himself facing an overwhelming and agonizing desire - no, a need - to touch the man he was observing, and he hadn't even seen his face yet.

Blair chose that moment to turn around.

Eyes the color of the purest cornflower widened as they connected with Ellison's own famous blues.

How many times had Ellison heard or read the phase 'Time stood still'? Well, he was here to tell anyone who would listen that time had no choice but to stop as he and Blair Sandburg connected.

And if not for Simon, time very well may have remained frozen.

"Blair, this is Jim Ellison. Jim, Blair Sandburg."

Blair slowly rubbed his right hand down his leg as, with eyes locked on the handsome man in front of him, he extended his hand.

As Jim grasped it, a current of electricity seemed to explode between them.

Without releasing Blair's hand, Jim Ellison said, "Blair."

Equally reluctant to release the warm, larger hand, Blair said, "Jim."

***

Call it chemistry, sparks or electricity, Simon had seen it all when it came to love. Hell, he had it all with Joel. But what he'd witnessed just two hours before between Blair and Jim Ellison transcended the normal and very human thing called physical attraction. What he was certain he'd witnessed was even beyond the call of fate or destiny. He'd been eyewitness to the coming together of two pieces of the same soul; a soul that must have been split apart but had finally found its other half.

Trite - but true.

Simon had been standing only a few feet from the two men when they'd first touched via the simple gesture of a handshake, but he would swear to his dying day, with his last breath, that *something* had been created when Blair's hand had slipped into Jim's larger one. Banks had felt the energy, the pulsating waves that seemed to jump from one man to the other and back again; energy so powerful, it had almost taken his breath away. And all from one simple touch, two hands, flesh to flesh.

He'd watched as Jim's hand had tightened and held - observed two sets of blue eyes meet and, without wavering, continue to hold as they repeated each other's first names - breathed them out in the same way that Simon had heard Joel whisper "God" - with the same reverence, trust and...love.

Damn, he thought, as he realized he'd actually been privy to "love at first sight." Talk about 'trite' again - but this time, perhaps not entirely appropriate. Maybe… Found At Last?

The truly amazing thing was, that until two hours ago, Blair had been straight. He may have spent the last fifteen years of his life being raised by two loving men, but he'd shown, at an early age, a complete joy of, attraction for, and dedication to, women. He'd even come close to marriage with one - an event that still gave Simon the shivers. Her name had been Alexis Barnes, an artist that Simon was very grateful to have out of Blair's life.

Jim Ellison, on the other hand, was no stranger to same-sex relationships - Simon had recognized that fact at the same time Ellison had seen it in him. And therein lay the problem that had been plaguing him for the last two hours.

Now, sitting by the pool and nursing a beer, he worried. Of course, he'd gotten very used to worrying about Blair in the last fifteen years - becoming a father to the ten-year-old had turned him into an expert. He smiled in fond memory of the boy Blair had been - a bundle of frenetic energy, his mind and body never at rest and constantly tripping over each other in their never ending quest for fun, knowledge, exploration and action. That boundless energy had Simon and Joel at their wits end at the conclusion of more than one day.

What had he and Joel called those hours after Blair would finally fall asleep at night? Oh, yes, their "lull before the storm" time. A lull that came every evening at nine-thirty, which was the time Blair's fuel would finally run out and they could get him to bed. And how had two young, loving, gay men enjoyed their lull? How else but by sitting in Blair's bedroom and watching the miracle of their sleeping child.

Unfortunately, as Blair grew, so did their worries. Concerns graduated from fear of falling due to running too fast, or upset stomach thanks to eating too much popcorn, or drowning because Blair had a penchant for jumping into the deep end of the pool before he learned to swim, to the more grown-up worries that followed the receipt of his learner's permit. This was followed by the question of whether Blair would live to see sixteen. Then they had to worry about Blair dating and safe sex. And finally, the constant worrying about whether they'd been good fathers.

But of course, given their circumstances, Simon and Joel had to face an additional worry: two men - two gay men - raising a boy. Two black gay men. Or how about one black, gay, agnostic male and one black, gay, born-again Christian male, raising a white, Jewish child?

And then there was Blair's choice of a career, which had added another layer to their worrying. Blair had chosen something that could disable or kill him in the blink of an eye.

Yep, Simon was well acquainted with worrying about Blair.

But the idea of a possible relationship with the world's biggest box-office star - the world's biggest "male" box office star - was emerging as the greatest worry to date.

Jim Ellison was a man whose career hinged on his very macho, very male image, so where would Blair fit in - how could Blair fit in? His face was almost as well known as Ellison's so it wasn't as if they could ever enjoy anonymity. What kind of future could Blair hope to have with the man? Even an openly gay couple today had difficulty showing overt displays of affection in public. The simple, physical public acts such as hand holding, hugging or kissing that heterosexual couples enjoyed were routinely denied to same sex couples.

The truth about the love he and Joel shared for each other was not a secret. But even he and Joel, in spite of their wealth, which yes, did protect them to a certain degree, was hobbled by public mores and they were forced to curtail public signs of affection.

So what chance did Blair have with Jim?

"You're a million miles away, love."

Simon started to turn when two strong hands began to massage his tense shoulders.

"And you're tense. What's wrong?"

Relaxing into Joel's deft fingers, Simon murmured, "Just indulging in some fatherly worrying."

"Ah, I thought so. Blair and Jim, right?"

"You saw it too?"

"Saw it, felt it, heard it and still amazed by the miracle of it."

Simon reached up to still Joel's hands. "You're not worried about our straight Blair entering into a relationship with a famous actor?"

"No. Not at all. It'll work. I'm sure of it."

Simon cocked his head back to smile up into his husband's face. "God, you're such an optimist. But surely you must see that the odds are against them, that Ellison can't afford our Blair?"

"That's a strange thing to say, but maybe I understand it. Our Blair is an open and very affectionate man, so trying to imagine all that love having to be stifled is rather daunting, but I think you're underestimating Jim Ellison."

"You think he'd give up his career for Blair?"

"Honestly? Yes, in a New York minute."

Simon could only shake his head in wonder. Joel was one of the sweetest, gentlest men he'd ever known, but sometimes his naiveté was just too much. "Joel, Joel, Joel. What am I going to do with you?"

The man in question gave Simon a truly wicked look, a look at direct odds with the otherwise happy countenance, but one that never failed to excite him. Pulling Simon up, Joel said in his best purr, "Why don't you put yourself in my hands and let's find out what you can do to me?"

"You're really not worried about this? In any way?" Simon asked as he stood.

Joel enfolded his love in his arms and, laughing gently in his ear, whispered, "No, I'm not. Have faith in our son and in my ability to get you to forget all about Blair and Jim Ellison."

How could Simon argue with that? If Joel had seen all that Simon had and wasn't worried, how could Simon do less? "Where are they now?" he asked as they started to walk toward the house.

"Blair is showing him his pride and joy. Now come upstairs and let me show you mine."

***

"This is incredible."

Jim stood in the middle of what Blair called his "reading room" which in any major city in the world be considered the main library, and whistled.

The room was a split level with a spiral staircase connecting the two. The majority of books were on the second level, and housed in the most beautiful bookcases Jim could remember seeing. The ground floor was clearly designed to create a quiet, comfortable atmosphere for reading with plenty of good lighting and a small, intimate fireplace to Jim's left. Two luxuriously deep beige couches had been placed facing each other a few feet away with a large square, oak coffee table between them. A beautiful bay window took up the wall opposite and was flanked by two equally luxurious wing chairs.

Jim began to move along the far wall where even more bookcases showcased Blair's collection. While he perused the titles, Blair stood by the fireplace, one arm resting on the mantle, face alight with joy as he watched Jim's reactions to the room and the titles he was now checking out.

"This collection is incredible, Blair. I can only imagine what you have on the second landing." He glanced over at the younger man and asked, "Do you actually read all of these?"

Laughing, Blair nodded. "Simon and Joel have always been voracious readers and they passed the love onto me. I lean toward archeology and anthropology, like the book you're looking at now, whereas Simon devours gruesome murder mysteries and Joel lives for science fiction. We also have a wonderful collection of First Editions upstairs."

"You're a strange combination, Blair. Jockey and scholar," Jim noted as he leafed through the anthropology book in his hands.

"Don't forget perpetual student."

"Let me guess - anthropology?"

The laugh that filled the room at Jim's correct guess, also filled every corner of Jim's soul, warming his blood and soothing his heart as nothing else had ever done. He was very sensitive to sounds, smells, even some materials and his eyes could easily be injured by bright lights and sunlight, but right now, with the sound of Blair's voice ringing in his ears, the world seemed incredibly right. His senses were in harmony and old wounds healed as he listened to the soft laughter.

He realized with a start that he never wanted to lose that sound.

"You're right. I do lean more toward Anthropology. Not sure why. I recently acquired a monograph by Sir Richard Burton and I can't leave it alone."

Still reveling in Blair's voice, Jim said, his eyes sparkling with humor, "I assume you mean the explorer?"

Blair chuckled, "Yes, somehow I can't quite picture the actor, Richard Burton, writing such a book."

"What's so special about it?"

"Well, it explores a special tribal--"

Unfortunately, his explanation was cut short by the insistent buzzing coming from the green phone mounted on the wall by the door.

"That's the phone for the stables; something must be wrong." Blair gave an apologetic grimace and hurried to answer while Jim slid the book back into its place and joined the younger man.

***

"...you're right, that doesn't sound like him. I'm on my way. No, no, let me check him out first...right."

Jim could feel the worry even before Blair faced him.

"I'm sorry, Jim. I've got to get down there; it's Little Stogie."

"I understand. I should be getting back to the set."

"I have a cart; we use it to get around the property when we're in a hurry. I'll drop you off."

Since the longer he spent in Blair's company, the better, Jim nodded and followed him out.

They went through the large, airy foyer, then the elegant, formal dining room and finally through the sunroom where Blair led him out a set of French doors. There, under a carport, sat two blue golf carts. Blair waved him over to the second one and Jim slid into the passenger seat. As Blair took off, Jim quickly learned that his racing wasn't confined to horses. He also learned that a golf cart that shouldn't be able to exceed five miles per hour - could.

Blair negotiated the twists and turns of the gravel path leading down to the track like a racecar pro, which didn't stop Jim from holding on for dear life. The path they were traveling cut roughly through the center of Simon's property, leaving the house on their left, the track on the right and, below, the stable, fields and pastures. Beyond that, Jim could see the road continuing on until it eventually met the main highway. But he also noticed that part of it branched off about a hundred yards from the highway. He was curious about its ultimate destination since it disappeared into a huge stand of evergreens, but in the face of Blair's evident worry about Little Stogie, he refrained from asking. He filed the question in his "ask later" file; a file that now held such questions as, "Would Blair go out with me if asked?" and "What would Blair's hair feel like as it flowed through my ultra-sensitive fingers?" and his favorite: "How would Blair taste?"

Jim could admit that he desperately wanted to find out, to share his bed with Blair, to have him in his arms with no clothes hampering their mutual exploration of the other's body. The freedom of such a moment tantalized him as he imagined his hands and lips free to caress and taste. He couldn't help but wonder how Blair would sound either; the low moans of pleasure as Blair moved with him, or later, in the throes of his orgasm. He could imagine his name on Blair's lips, moaned during his final release....

The cart came to an abrupt stop, bringing Jim back to the here and now and, he realized belatedly, Blair was talking.

"...as I know anything, I mean, I'd like to...."

Jim slipped out of the cart and smiled at the embarrassed man, which was ridiculous. If any one should be embarrassed at the moment, it should be him. But it was fairly easy to figure out what Blair had been saying, so he answered easily. "Me, too. So whichever of us finishes first?"

Blair smiled in relief. "Yes, whichever of us finishes first." He stuck out his hand and, once again, Jim took it as their gazes locked. This time, however, a question was asked, truth was acknowledged, and a shy answer given. Jim held on longer than strictly necessary, but he was loathe to release, to break the connection. Eventually he had no choice and, as Blair's hand slipped away, Jim stepped back and watched, reluctantly, as the cart moved off.

Staring down at his hand, experiencing Blair's heat and energy still coursing though it, Jim felt as Blair were still with him, soothing him as he'd done all afternoon. But he had a job to do and it certainly took precedence over standing here and looking at his hand.

Jim moved toward the lights, cameras and the action.

***

Even before he pulled the cart alongside the stall, Blair could hear Little Stogie's pained neighing. He jumped out of the cart and hurried inside.

His crew had wisely segregated the horse at the far end of the barn when the fidgeting, neighing, pawing and kicking had begun to affect the other horses. At the moment, Carl Mendoza and Willy Simmons were trying to soothe the horse, holding him taut with leads while the ranch foreman, GM, tried to get close enough to check Little Stogie. All three talked softly, trying desperately to placate the animal, but it was clear to Blair that nothing was working.

Nevertheless, Blair remained just inside doorway, watching closely but choosing, for the moment, to do nothing. His actions weren't out of a fear that Little Stogie would injure him or that he didn't know what to do for the animal, but rather because in observing, he hoped to get a clue as to what the underlying problem might be.

One thing he could see from his vantage point was that Little Stogie's eyes weren't wild and there were no whites showing. Fine tremors ran through him every few seconds and his coat was dark with moisture. Every minute or so, he would shake his head and neck, as if shaking something bothersome; his pitiful neighing a testament to pain rather than fear or panic. Little Stogie was doing his best to give them all the clues necessary to fix him. Blair just had to put them together.

After a few more minutes of observation, Blair said, "Okay, guys, back all the way to the end of your leads."

Anywhere else, at any other stable, with anyone else, the men would have thought the suggestion insane, suicidal even. They'd have rightly believed that loosening their leads would free the horse enough to lash out and injure itself and/or Blair, who was now standing a few feet from Little Stogie. But they weren't anywhere else and this wasn't just anybody, this was Blair, so they did as instructed and did it with complete faith in him.

As each man slowly played out their lines, Blair began to talk, gaze locked on the pain-filled eyes of his horse. "It's okay, I'll fix it, don't worry...ssh, it's okay, quiet now, watch me baby, watch me."

The words weren't unique, but the voice, the tone; even the three men had to be on their toes or they'd find themselves relaxing and falling victim to the cadence of the melodious voice.

"That's it, baby...quiet down, let me touch you. I'll find it, fix it, take the pain away. Blair will take the pain away…just let me hold you, touch you...shush, let me make it better...."

The quivering animal watched, ears up, listening...and slowly quieted; the pawing stopping. Only its head and tail moved; the tail switching in anticipation, Stogie's head moving up and down as if to say, "Yes, hurry, make it better."

Slowly, Little Stogie arched his head forward, muzzle straining toward the healing hand. The three men watched, amazed as always by Blair's magic with horses even as they held their collective breaths.

Blair finally rested his hand on Little Stogie's muzzle and began to move in slowly until he was right next to the animal, still talking, almost purring, his words quiet and soothing while he began his gentle exploration. He ran his hands down each leg, then along each flank as he continued his soothing words. He checked the animal's eyes and mouth, searching for anything out of the ordinary. By now, Little Stogie was completely quiet, still, and trusting. Blair moved his hands up into the reddish brown mane, his fingers raking through it, slowly probing the horse's neck.

There…something...a bump, something tough, hard...a sudden jerk from Little Stogie…and Blair knew he'd found the problem.

"GM, you can drop your lead, I need the pinchers."

The man didn't hesitate. He slowly dropped the line, turned and, reaching over the low stall, plucked a pair of what looked like curved pliers off their peg. He moved slowly toward Blair until he was within reach and held them out.

Blair took them even as he continued to croon. "Okay, baby, daddy's going to make it better, just a few more minutes, be still for me, almost there...."

As Blair worked at removing what he'd found, GM got a bottle from a nearby shelf, opened it and grabbed a couple of pads.

"Got it! Okay, guys, you can all drop your lines, and Carl, go ahead and carefully pull them off."

The men did their job, the lines removed and rewound with Little Stogie at complete rest now. Blair held his hand out to GM and, with a glance at the bottle and pad, said, "Trade you?"  
Grinning, GM handed him the bottle and gauze. Blair took them and dropped what he held into GM's now outstretched palm as he added, "Put this in a plastic bag for me, and thanks. Good job."

GM nodded, took the pinchers and headed back to the small office. Meanwhile, Blair poured some of the liquid onto a pad and began to apply it gently to the site of the extraction. The liquid was a natural mixture of herbs that would soothe and protect the puncture, as well as act as an antiseptic. It was also one of many of Blair's own concoctions used at Banks Folly.

He continued to gently pat and wipe and, after a few moments, the horse neighed gently and lowered its head in relieved exhaustion. Blair handed the bottle and pads back to GM, who'd returned, and gave Little Stogie a few final, loving strokes, followed by a kiss on the jaw before saying, "Carl, you know the drill."

"Yeah, boss. Apply the liquid every thirty minutes for the next four hours. Don't worry, I'm on it."

"Never worry. Great job, guys. Thanks."

Pleased, they nodded and promptly went about the task of cleaning up as Carl got more pads.

GM followed Blair back into the small workroom where the baggie lay on the antique desk. Blair lifted it in order to give the item inside a closer inspection. Shaking his head, he said, "A thorn. Just a simple thorn. A large one, sure, but still...a thorn." He glanced over at GM and added with a frown, "But a thorn from a bush you'd have to travel over fifty miles to find."

GM nodded. "Yep, and a thorn that just happened to make its way to a damn sensitive spot on our baby. A spot where normal movement would slowly aggravate 'til the pain drove him into a frenzy. And if this had happened anywhere else, Little Stogie would've been put down." He cocked his head. "You thinkin' what I am?"

"Yes, and you know what to do."

GM took off his hat, fiddled with the brim, nodded sagely and said, "Me, Carl, Will and Blade will take shifts. No one prepares his food, no one feeds him, or cares for him, or sees him but us."

"I'll go back up to the house, let Simon know. Operation Lockdown. He'll love it."

"I'm thinking we have a couple problems here...."

Blair had already started out but at GM's words, he turned back. "What?"

"The movie crew, for starters."

"Fuck. Okay, we can handle this; I mean, they're scheduled to shoot at the old lower track and main house only, so we should be able to keep them away."

"Nuh-uh, Boss. Three were already here earlier, before the problem with Little Stogie. Said they would be shooting down here and were looking for 'angles.' Leastwise, that's what they said."

A frown creased the handsome face as Blair wiped a hand over his jaw. "Okay, I'll check into it. You said two problems?"

"Yeah, Boss. You. If Little Stogie can't be taken out of the race, if they can't get to him...they'll go after the rider. Now we both know Barnes is responsible for this, that he's tired of losing to you, that's he's not real happy 'bout his daughter, either. You've got a powerful enemy there."

"GM, I don't doubt for a minute that Barnes would hurt or even kill Little Stogie, or anything else he could come up with to turn the odds in his favor for Saturday, but even he would stop at hurting people."

"Just the same...."

"Just the same, you guys will be watching me. Right?"

GM scratched his head, fingers moving through short, graying bristly curls. "Well, yeah, that about says it." He grinned before adding, "Simon 'n Joel wouldn't have it any other way."

Blair shook his head and moved out, bag in hand. He didn't hear GM's parting words of, "And neither would we."

***

"...so there it is." Blair sat at the kitchen table, Joel and Simon on either side, the plastic bag on the table in front of them.

"You're sure that thing couldn't have made its way under Little Stogie's skin by accident? Maybe while out this morning?" Joel queried.

"Well, that would be kind of tricky since this particular type of thorn is from a bush found over fifty miles from here. Not to mention the fact that I did Little Stogie's rub down this morning after our run and believe me, there was no thorn."

"So someone did this between then and…now…and we know it isn't any of our people--"

"Because our people know Blair and they know Blair would have figured it out, no problem." Joel finished for Simon.

"So. The movie crew." Simon said, his expression grim.

Joel shook his head, "Not necessarily. With the number of strangers on the property, anyone could have slipped in and no one would be the wiser."

"Don't think so, Joel. David has his own security. Seems Ellison was stalked by a dangerous fan a while back and it's in his contract. Security. Good security. Add that to our own and you've got a pretty good bet that it's one of the crew."

"Simon, didn't you tell me that they'd only be shooting at the old track and the house?" Blair asked.

"That's the agreement."

Blair quickly filled them both in on GM's information about the three crew members who'd visited the stables.

Simon was clearly surprised. "No way. Old track and house, that's it. There must be a mistake. David wouldn't make a change like that; there'd be no need. The whole point of using the old track was that he wanted stables in the background - the older the better." He got up and moved to his work corner. "Look, I have his schedule here, somewhere." He rummaged around and finally pulled out a stapled sheaf of blue papers. Bringing them back, he let them flutter down onto the middle of wooden surface, retook his seat, and said, "NO primary stable shots. None."

Blair picked up the papers, folded them and stood up. As he stuck them into his back pocket he said, "Well, I guess I'll just amble on down there and check this out."

"Blair, you could be--"

"Don't worry, Pops," he said fondly. "The guys are taking good care of me." He grinned wickedly and patted the top of Simon's head as Joel laughed outright.

"Have I ever told you that I hate it when you finish my sentences?" Simon groused.

"Yep." With that and a laugh, Blair was gone, the screen door banging shut behind him.

Joel looked at his husband and grinned, "Little anxious there? To rush down and 'check out' the crew? Like, maybe, check out Jim Ellison?"

"Joel, so help me...."

***

Blair stood unobtrusively on the sidelines, watching as Jim shot his scene, one that was apparently pivotal to the movie as Jim's character discovered the murderer's true identity.

Watching him, Blair couldn't help think back to his experience of a few hours ago. He was twenty-five and had been struck by lightening. And it hadn't hurt a bit.

Love.

Just like that.

A snap of his fingers.

Oh, yeah, he had it bad and he had every intention of keeping it.

The moment he'd turned and gazed into those pale blue eyes, he'd known. And when their hands touched; he'd become whole. He couldn't explain it any other way. He hadn't even known he'd been missing a part of himself until that moment - and just like that, Jim Ellison had slipped into his heart.

But there'd been something else. Apart from the attraction, apart from the completion he'd felt, there'd been a different connection, separate, unrelated, but there. He couldn't yet define it, but knew that even if the love, the wholeness hadn't been there, this other connection would have. Two for the price of one.

Oddly enough, Blair wasn't even blinking twice at the fact that he'd fallen in love with a man. It simply wasn't an issue because it just was.

His thoughts were interrupted by Jim's voice and the heat of the older man's hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

"So, you finished first. Little Stogie okay?"

Blair looked up and saw the genuine concern in Jim's eyes. He nodded and smiled, "Yep. Everything is fine. We race on Saturday."

"Well, Tom just called today's shoot a closer, so I'm free."

There was a question in his voice and Blair found himself oddly hesitant to pursue it, given what he was about to ask of Jim, but ask he did. "Is there somewhere private we could talk?"

Hearing the worry in his voice, Jim nodded, "Sure, we can go over to my trailer. Follow me."

He led them to row of RV's, one of which had his name on the door. He unlocked it and let Blair precede him inside, at which time Blair breathed out an awed, "God."

Staring at the interior, it was all the younger man could say. He was used to Simon's wealth, sure, but his own life was grounded in the day to day process of being a jockey. He never frequented fancy hotels when traveling for races, always choosing his own trailer instead, which was nice but couldn't compare to the opulence he was faced with now. It would be like comparing an outhouse to a mansion. "I...you...this is not what I pictured, I mean, this is so not you."

"No, it isn't, but it's expected." At the raised eyebrow, Jim continued. "This business is about power and the more power, the more freedom. I would never choose this, but I'm expected to have it. If I don't demand it, the perception of power is diminished. Sounds weird, I know, but there it is. I actually have demands put into my contract simply to maintain appearances. Here, take a look." He walked over to the refrigerator and opened the freezer to reveal carton after carton of Ben and Jerry's Ice cream.

Smiling, he closed the freezer door and said, "Because I once mentioned that I liked the product, I now have to demand its delivery when I'm on a shoot." He gave a huge grin, "And of course, I do like it and the people in this business tend to do things in a big way."

Blair could only shake his head, his own smile mirroring Jim's until Jim indicated a plush chair. "So sit and tell me why you needed privacy on your own ranch."

***

Blair finished explaining the afternoon and what had happened to Little Stogie, as well as sharing his concerns about the men who'd visited the stables. Now he sat back and said, "So you can see why it would be really helpful if I could talk to David or the individual responsible for these things."

Jim got up, went to the phone on the wall and dialed. "Jake, is Paul still around? Yeah, I need to see him, it's important. Thanks." He replaced the phone in the cradle and returned to Blair.

"It's all set. Paul will be here in a few. He's the man who sets up the shoots and prints out our schedules. If there's been a change, it would have to go through him."

"But you're not aware of any?"

"No, but that isn't unusual. We can get them twenty-four hours in advance or ten minutes before I'm supposed to walk on the set. We're at the mercy of weather, lighting, you name it. Not to mention the whimsy of the director."

A tentative knock forestalled any further discussion as Jim opened the door to admit a tall, rangy man of about forty.

"Paul, this is Blair Sandburg. Blair, Paul Sawyer."

The two men shook and Paul's eyes lit up in recognition. "Mr. Sandburg, it's a real pleasure to meet you. I'm counting on you to win this weekend."

"Please, call me Blair, and I plan to."

"Paul, have there been any shooting schedule changes involving locations here at the ranch?" Jim asked.

"Well, I did receive a memo from David stating that we'd be shooting down at the lower stables tomorrow. That surprised me, but I sent Booth and a couple of lighters down earlier to check it out."

"I never received them," Jim said.

"No, I don't have approval. The information is sitting on David's desk in his trailer. Is there a problem?"

"I don't know yet. Can you get the names of the two men Booth took with him? It could be important."

"Will do. Anything else?"

"No, that's about it - and thanks."

"My pleasure, and it was great meeting you, Blair. I've got money on you and Little Stogie, but no pressure you understand."

"Hey, no pressure, but just out of curiosity, how much?"

"Five bucks." He stepped out of the trailer laughing uproariously.

The two men looked at each other and burst into unrestrained laughter themselves.

"Well." Jim said, as they finally controlled themselves.

"Yes. Well." Blair scratched his chin and then said, "I've been meaning to ask, uh, there's a party tomorrow night; it's a tradition for the Cascade Aspen Sweepstakes, kind of a ball, actually. Thought maybe you'd like to go?"

Jim stared at him, his expression one of both surprise and humor. Blair had actually beaten him to the whole "asking out" thing.

"As my guest," Blair added somewhat unnecessarily.

Grinning, Jim nodded. "I'd like that."

Before anything else could be said, the phone rang and Jim quickly answered. "Ellison. Yeah, Paul...you're sure? You talked with David? What? This Tony guy is gone? No, I'll talk with David myself later. Do me a favor though and find out everything you can on the guy, but do it quietly, okay? Yeah, and thanks Paul."

He turned to Blair, "Well, you heard. David never did a memo to Paul about changing the shoot and one of the men who was down at the stables with Booth has disappeared. And, according to Booth, the guy wasn't with them every second either - he disappeared for several minutes, claimed he'd been looking for a restroom."

"Can't say that I'm surprised."

"What happens now?"

"We have procedures in place to protect Little Stogie, this isn't new to racing."

"What about procedures in place to protect the rider?"

"Well, if you go to your window, you'll probably see a tough old geezer standing a few feet away."

Jim turned his head and peered out the side window. Sure enough, someone who looked like every western character actor ever to grace the screen stood nonchalantly against a fence. And damn it if he was whittling too. Jerking a thumb in the whittler's direction, Jim asked in disbelief, "He's your protection?"

"Yep. Trust me, I won't be alone until the race is over." Then Blair frowned as he moved toward the window. He looked out, whistled and turned back to Jim. "Uhm, how did you see him from over there?"

"What do you mean?"

"Jim, man, you're standing at the opposite end of this mansion of a trailer - no one could have seen as far you evidently did. Hell, I had to move to the window in order to see him - and believe me, I have great eyesight."

Jim shrugged nonchalantly as he said, "I just looked, that's all. No big deal."

Blair wasn't fooled, not for a minute. "That's bullshit, man. Now how did you do it?"

"Blair, I'm serious, I don't know what to say. I looked."

Blair turned away from him, apparently to look back out at GM.

"Why don't you check for yourself?" Jim asked with a smile.

Blair whirled back to face him, his expression ecstatic. "You heard me!"

"What are you talking about?"

"I just _whispered_ that only Superman could have seen that far and were you hiding an 'S' under your shirt - and you *heard* me." He joined Jim and grabbing his arms, added, "You heard what you shouldn't have been able to hear, and you saw GM from a distance that you shouldn't have been able to." He cocked his head. "I bet if you concentrated right now, you could hear my heartbeat."

"Don't be silly. No one could. Not without assistance."

"But you heard my whisper. Go on, try. Concentrate."

Jim stepped back, shaking his head. "I...don't need to...Damn it, yes. I can hear it, if I choose to."

Wonder suffused Blair's face. "My God, you're a sentinel. A real sentinel."

"What are you talking about?"

Barely containing his excitement, Blair said, "That book I was telling you about, Sir Richard Burton's? It talked about a tribal guardian with very powerful senses, heightened if you will, and that's you. I bet your sense of touch and taste are off the charts too, right?"

Jim moved away from him even as he said, "Blair, this is real interesting, but you're not talking about me. Yeah, I heard you, so what? Yes, I can be bothered by lights, sounds even some materials used to drive me crazy--"

Blair interrupted, "Used to? You can control them now?"

"No, not exactly. I use...take--"

"Aw, Jim, don't tell me you're taking pills to dull your nerves?"

"It's the only way; I'd go crazy otherwise," Jim said defensively.

"Okay, so when was the last time you took one?"

Jim thought back...and was amazed to discover that he'd needed nothing since that morning. Surprised, he answered, "Around five this morning…but I haven't needed anything since, in fact…I've never felt better."

Blair cocked his head with sudden interest. "You make it sound like that's very unusual - is it?"

Jim nodded, "Yeah. I generally need to take one every few hours when on a shoot."

Rubbing his hands together and grinning excitedly, Blair said, "This is so cool, Jim. Maybe you have control but just didn't know it because of the meds."

Jim looked down into the incredible, animated face and knew instantly that it wasn't the meds. Voice full of awe, he said, "It's you. I never have control, but somehow, since meeting you...when we first touched, shook hands, I could feel everything about you…but my senses didn't run wild. No pain, no headache, just - you." A frown creased his forehead as he added, "But that feeling was...different from my…well, my attraction to you."

Blair blinked several times as he processed what Jim had just told him…because it meant that Jim had experienced the same strange connection he'd felt. Placing his hand on Jim's arm, he said in a voice full of wonder and an underlying excitement, "I...God, this is unbelievable. In the monograph, Burton says that each guardian had a partner to help them, protect them--"

Jim's hand came up and rested on top of the hand still clasping his arm as he interrupted Blair. "You."

Suddenly assaulted by indecision, Blair shook his head. "I don't know, Jim. I just don't know."

"I do."

They looked at each other, eyes taking in as much as possible, both of them feeling so much more than two men should feel after only a few hours. Jim finally broke the silence. "Blair, I don't really understand this, but I do know that I trust you as I've trusted no other, but that the trust isn't connected to the--"

"Attraction," Blair whispered.

"Yeah. The attraction. They're--"

"Separate."

Jim nodded. "Yeah, separate. And do you always finish other people's sentences?"

"Until now, only Simon's and Joel's. Apparently I can add--"

"Me," Jim, laughing, finished for him. At Blair's happy nod, he added, "Well, at least I'm in good company." His expression sobered a moment later as he asked, "So, what does this mean? Where do we go next, Chief?"

"I guess we take it one step at a time. I'd like to run some tests on you…." At Jim's horrified expression, Blair laughed and quickly added, "Eventually. But right now, well, I think we should act on those…other feelings. I'd like to take you somewhere, if you have the time now?"

"For you? All the time in the world. Not to sound trite or anything."

"Do you have swim trunks in this little manse-away-from-manse?"

Puzzled, Jim nodded.

"Well, go get 'em. Where we're going, you'll need 'em."

Jim disappeared into what must be the bedroom and came back a few minutes later with a small bag. "Okay, I'm ready. Lead on McDuff."

Before Blair drove them off, he stopped to talk to the man he'd called GM. Jim couldn't help but listen in, and he couldn't help but smile as he heard Blair's words ensuring the man that he'd be safe and no, he was *not* to follow.

He must have convinced him because GM shrugged his shoulders. Blair walked back to the cart, climbed in and, once again, Jim found himself on the track at Le Mans. He wondered vaguely if this was a trait of all jockeys.

Several minutes later Jim was surprised to see Blair steer the cart in the direction of the path he'd wondered about earlier; he'd expected Blair to take them to the Olympic-sized swimming pool. Looking ahead, he said, "I noticed this section of road this morning. Where exactly--"

"We're going to what I call 'The Pond'. It's sort of a special place of mine." He indicated the stream on Jim's side of the road and said, "That empties into it in the form of a small waterfall. The whole place is cool and peaceful." He grinned as he turned his attention back to the road. "It's the perfect spot to check out your senses."

Jim was disappointed that his senses were all Blair was interested in, but he hid it well.

Blair drove into the wooded area where the trees, foliage and resultant shade helped drop the temperature from the warm mid-eighties to something more like the upper seventies. Blair slowed down, allowing Jim to take in all the splendor surrounding them, including the creek, which had widened.

For several more minutes they rode in peaceful silence, Jim allowing the area - and the man beside him - to lull him into a calm, almost hypnotic state.

Eventually, Blair brought the cart to a stop and, as he climbed out, said, "We hoof it from here, but it's not far."

They followed the stream further into the trees with Jim hearing the waterfall long before seeing it. When they finally broke through and the pond was before him, he could only stare at the beauty before him.

Paradise.

The stream was at its widest here, with evergreens rising tall around them. The waterfall tumbled over moss-covered rocks in a small but lovely cascade that caught the sunlight streaming through the trees. The bank rose up and jutted out on the opposite side, but on their side, it was a gentle slope.

Jim whistled low and, looking back at Blair, realized that he'd been observing the wrong scenery. At the moment, Blair was standing in a streak of golden sunlight and the sight literally took Jim's breath away.

Smiling and obviously unaware of the effect he was having on his guest, Blair said, "Swim first, senses last - and last one in is a rotten egg!”

Grinning at the challenge, Jim narrowed his eyes wickedly and said, "You're on." He looked around for a secluded spot to change but the rustle of clothing brought his attention back to Blair - who'd already toed off his shoes, pulled off his socks and was now removing his sweater.

Jim forgot about looking for seclusion.

Blair tossed the sweater to the ground, unsnapped his jeans, pulled down the zipper and quickly pushed them down over his hips. After stepping out of them, he kicked them away, grabbed the tie that held his hair back and pulled it off. Shaking his hair loose, he said with a deceptively matter-of-fact voice, "You're still dressed."

Jim tried to make a sound - any sound, but nothing came out of his mouth. Staring at Blair, he had to admit that clothed, he was hot, but in nothing but navy blue boxer-briefs, he was a wet dream. He'd expected him to be slender, as a jockey, that was a given, but what he hadn't expected were the lean muscles and powerful legs, but he should have. After all, it took great mental and physical strength to control an animal weighing several hundred pounds.

His gaze was drawn up to the younger man's chest, to hair that had been tantalizing him all afternoon. Dark and curling, it spread, soft and appealing, across the expanse of the compact but muscular chest. A silver glint caught his attention and, focusing on it, he realized with a gasp that it was a nipple ring.

Blair's right nipple was pierced.

A small moan escaped his lips as his hands began to tear at his shirt in his eagerness to get undressed. It didn't matter than the clothes he was wearing belonged to the studio.

Laughing, Blair made a dash for the creek and, as his feet hit the edge, he arched his body into a beautiful racing dive and hit the water, cutting through it so smoothly, there was only the barest of a splash. He disappeared beneath the cool surface even as Jim's fingers, now frantic and clumsy, tugged on his zipper, roughly tugging down the studio-owned Armani slacks. As Blair's head finally popped up, half way across the pond, Jim lost his balance and toppled over, slacks twisted around his ankles.

Blair pushed the hair back with both hands before wiping the water from his eyes. Spotting Jim, he couldn't hold back the delighted laughter.

Jim, now red-faced and sweating, shot a disgusted look at him but, seeing only affection in his eyes, he fell back on his hands and let his own mirth mingle with Blair's.

Finally Blair couldn't resist and, in his best construction worker imitation, asked, "Hey gorgeous, need some help with that?"

Jim's eyes widened before he fell back on the grass, his laughter uncontrollable.

"Gee, and I thought that was my sexiest voice. Damn, guess I'm going to...."

Blair's words trailed off as Jim got to his feet sans Armani and boxers. With a very wicked leer, he dove in and swam directly for the younger man, who, with an, "Uh-oh," dove backward and swam for the opposite shore.

Blair was faster but Jim was taller. He got close enough to connect with Blair's foot so he took advantage by grabbing and pulling. As he reeled in the struggling, laughing man, he moved his hand up to settle on Blair's left hip. Jim pulled again, this time bringing Blair up and towards him. At that point, he changed tactics and wrapped his arms around Blair's waist, tugging him close. They were now back to chest, legs kicking slowly beneath the water and keeping them afloat.

Jim wanted Blair Sandburg as he'd never wanted anyone before. He was a major star and, as he'd explained to Blair, it was always about power. If he desired it, just about anything was his for the asking - he just rarely asked. But a man needed…certain needs met - and there were plenty of extras and actor-wannabe's who were looking for a thrill in the form of bedding down with him. There were also other high-powered actors in the same boat, more than willing to hook up for a night or two - but Blair was none of those, nor was he the best table at the finest restaurant or front row center seats at a popular Broadway play. What Blair happened to be - was everything Jim have ever dreamed of finding; all he'd ever wanted.

Now, bringing his right hand up, he gently moved aside the heavy, wet curls to expose Blair's neck and, lowering his head, kissed the moist skin just below Blair's ear. He couldn't help the smile at the result of the shudder that ran through the younger man. Blair tilted his head back and slightly to his left, giving Jim better access even as he shifted closer.

Jim was using his considerable strength to keep them afloat and plastered together but he almost lost it as Blair's ass bumped against his rapidly hardening cock. Regaining his equilibrium, he nibbled at Blair's ear, slid his hand up through the mat of chest hair until he found the nipple ring. He fingered it gently but in rhythm to the motion of darting his tongue in and out of Blair's ear. His reward came in the form of Blair's arch backward followed by a low, guttural moan of need.

Jim somehow managed to maneuver them backwards until he could just touch bottom. Blair was still kicking gently below the surface, which continued to force his ass against Jim's cock. Grinding himself into Blair, he gave the nipple ring a sharp tweak. Blair's reaction was to thrust back so hard, he nearly came up and out of the water.

That was it for Jim. With a few maneuvers worthy of Houdini, he managed to remove the one obstacle between the two of them: Blair's shorts.

Jim gripped Blair's cock; the water making it easy to work it while, at the same time, he began to ease his way into Blair.

Blair reached back and clamped onto Jim's hip in order to anchor himself to him, to make it easier, and now he pushed back just enough to help Jim slide in. He wasn't expecting any resistance so was startled when he encountered it, when Blair suddenly tensed. Instinct took over and Jim gave a quick tug on the nipple ring. Blair moaned and immediately thrust back hard just as Jim pushed in again, this time more easily.

They kicked and thrust; one moving backward, the other forward…in...out...in...out....

Jim hefted Blair up a bit, thus allowing his cock to strike Blair's prostrate. The shudder that ran through him told Jim that Blair was close.

End part One


	2. Chapter 2

Blair had his head resting on Jim's shoulder, eyes closed, hands holding on for dear life. Jim was moving in and out of him, of his body, and he couldn't believe anything could feel this strange - or good. The tugging of his nipple ring kept sending small threads of delicious pleasure through him and he could no more stifle his moans than call a stop to their lovemaking. Jim hit that certain spot again - he knew it was his prostate - and he shuddered so violently, he nearly jerked out of Jim's grasp. Jim's hold tightened almost convulsively as he gave another forceful kick that buried his cock at its deepest yet…and Blair tumbled over the edge.  
  
***  
  
They floated on the surface, exhausted limbs moved lazily by the water. Jim roused himself to finally whisper, "We'd better head for shore before we drown."  
  
Blair chuckled. "Drowning by post orgasmic lethargy - cool."  
  
Slowly and reluctantly, he pulled away and, together, they swam back to the grassy bank, walked out and dropped to the ground. After several minutes, Blair propped his chin on his arms and looked sideways at Jim, whose eyes were closed. Feeling confident that this was the perfect opportunity to look his fill of the man he'd just made love with, he nevertheless found it strange. Here he was, looking at a living, breathing Jim Ellison whose incredible looks were even more potent in person, and he was reacting in ways that no woman had ever solicited. And sure, maybe, in the face of Jim's…what, beauty? Blair might be feeling a tad inadequate in the looks department, not that he didn't have his own charm - but really, a jockey compared to an actor; to Jim? Not that Jim seemed to have minded a few minutes ago.  
  
Blair smiled in memory and he quickly found himself choked up with emotion. With a tentative move, he reached out a hand to touch Jim's lips where they curved into a half smile. God, they hadn't even kissed yet - and with that thought, he leaned in - was just about to make contact -when Jim opened his eyes. The older man's smile widened and Blair couldn't stop the words that followed. "I love you."  
  
The smile reached Jim's eyes then, but Blair didn't catch it as his own were focused on Jim's lips while he waited for the same words to come back to him. Instead, Jim reached out and pulled Blair toward him...and they finally kissed; deep and possessive.  
  
***  
  
Jim's question about how Blair would taste was now answered and, for the first time in his life, he found himself thankful for his senses.  
  
They finally parted with Blair dropping his head so that his forehead rested against Jim's chin as he breathed out, low, quiet and almost reverently, "God, you're incredible. I didn't know it could be like this, Jim. The feeling of you inside me. I just didn't know - couldn't know it would feel so good. God, I love you."  
  
Jim stiffened, his breath catching at Blair's words and then he remembered the resistance and tensing. He rolled away, avoiding Blair's eyes as he did so.  
  
"Jim?" Blair asked, suddenly worried.  
  
"You… you're, I mean, surely you've...." But he couldn't finish. He rested back on his heels as Blair sat up, puzzled.  
  
"What is it? What's wrong?"  
  
"Shit. You've never… That was your first time, wasn't it? You're a virgin."  
  
Blair couldn't help it - he laughed even as he barked out, "I'm hardly a virgin, man."  
  
"Oh, yeah? Have you ever had anal sex before today?" Jim asked tersely.  
  
"Okay, no, but come on--"  
  
"That makes you a virgin. Jesus, Blair, I could have hurt you." Then he said, voice stronger and tinged with anger, "You should have told me. Jesus Christ."  
  
"Look, it didn't occur to me...I mean--"  
  
Suddenly another thought struck Jim and he lurched to his feet, interrupting Blair's words. "Christ, you've never even been with a man before, have you?"  
  
Jim's anger drove Blair to his feet, his own face flushing with a combination of ire and embarrassment. "What the hell is this all about? Why--"  
  
Jim grabbed Blair by the arms. "Answer me. You've never been with a man before, have you?"  
  
"No, not before today, why is that--"  
  
"Fuck!'  
  
Jim let him go so quickly that Blair almost fell, but he caught himself and watched, shocked, as Jim grabbed up his clothes and began to dress.  
  
Feeling suddenly bereft and still unsure of what was really going on, Blair could only watch. Had he…had he said it too soon? Was that it? Damn, of course it was. Disgusted with himself, with the day, with everything, he knelt down, picked up his clothes, slipped his sweater over his head, pulled on his jeans and, as he straightened, felt, for the first time, an unaccustomed soreness. He hissed in discomfort, which caused Jim to turn toward him, his face set tight. Blair stifled any further sounds, put on his tennis shoes and violently stuffed his socks into a back pocket. All he wanted was to be anywhere but here. He could already feel the connection between them shattering. He bit down hard on his lip to keep words from spilling out; to hide his hurt.  
  
And all because he'd said too much, too soon.  
  
They walked silently back to the cart, slipped in and Blair drove them back to the trailers, never once looking at the angry man beside him.  
  
When he finally pulled up alongside the trailer, Jim climbed out and, without a backward glance, walked inside.  
  
Blair turned the cart around and headed for the stables and the freedom and succor he could only receive by riding.  
  
***  
  
Jim stepped inside and, as the door shut behind him, leaned back and closed his eyes. Only now, in the privacy of his trailer, did he allow the tremors he'd been desperately trying to control, take over.  
  
He should have known, but damn it, it had never occurred to him that Blair was… that he'd never… damn. He could have hurt him. He hadn't even tried to control himself, giving into the need to connect so thoroughly that he doubted he'd been entirely human.  
  
Thank God they'd been in the water.  
  
He never would have, never...but God, oh, dear God.  
  
***  
  
GM watched Blair saddle Incacha, mount up, wince, and then turn the horse and head for the gate. In spite of Blair's earlier orders not to follow them into the woods, he'd done just that. Now, standing next to the fence with Will, he recognized something in Blair that he hadn't seen in a long time. Not since Alexis Barnes.  
  
"I'm thinking one of us better go after him, GM. I don't much like the look on his face," Willy said softly.  
  
GM spit out a wad of tobacco and nodded. "I'll go. Should be me anyways."  
  
Ten minutes later he rode out after his boss.  
  
***  
  
Incacha was a huge, powerful Arabian horse and, when given his lead, ran like the wind using long, deep strides. It took all of Blair's strength, stamina and concentration to stay with him, which was exactly why he'd chosen him for this particular ride.  
  
Blair had purchased him two years ago after being informed that he couldn't be broken. The moment he'd set eyes on the sleek, midnight black, heavily muscled and headstrong horse, he'd known they belonged together. Incacha represented everything Blair loved about riding.  
  
Some believed that you had to break a horse to tame him, but Blair wasn't among them. He didn't even believe in taming a horse. No, for him, riding was a union between man and animal, each challenging the other's strength and spirit before merging into one powerful entity charging across the land.  
  
Which was exactly what he needed now. No thoughts or memories, just power between his legs, the sound of Incacha's breathing matching his own with his hands strong and firm on the reins. He dug his knees in, lowered his head and gave Incacha his freedom. They raced across the expanse of Banks Folly, wove their way around the trees, taking each obstacle with long, clean jumps and then galloping over the open field. Thanks to the wind whipping at his hair and burning his face, he couldn't feel the hot tears of shame, hurt and loss.  
  
Blair didn't hear the shot, but Incacha did. The bullet zipped passed the horse's head causing it to rear up in panic.  
  
Had his concentration been where it belonged, Blair would have been able to control him, but it wasn't and, as a result, he was thrown.  
  
He hit the ground, rolled over, and lay still.  
  
***  
  
GM knew Blair. Knew what he would do, where he'd ride, so he cut across the meadow in hopes of intercepting him. As he topped a small rise, he spotted horse and man racing hard through a stand of oaks. He was just starting down in order to intercept when he heard the loud crack of a rifle. Incacha reared back and, to GM's horror, Blair flew over Incacha's head.  
  
Even as he raced to Blair's side, he scanned the surrounding area for the shooter, his hand moving back to his own rifle. A sudden whirl of dust to his right alerted him to a red Jeep speeding away and, while he would have loved to take off after the dickhead, Blair was his priority. He reached Blair's side, dismounted and, heart in his throat, knelt down beside the prone man. Blair was already moaning and trying to sit up so GM put out a restraining hand. "Not so fast, Boss. You know the drill. Let me check you out first."  
  
He probed gently, checking for broken bones, all to a constant litany of, "I'm fine, stop that, nothing's broken, just got the breath knocked out of me." GM ignored him and continued to check him out even as he pushed Blair's hands away. Eventually Blair gave up and let GM do his job, but not without a final, "Fuck," to punctuate his displeasure.  
  
"Nasty cut there on your arm and another one here," GM said softly as he gently touched Blair's temple. "Stay put while I get some water to clean these up a bit."  
  
"Gee, may I sit up, O Great Master?"  
  
GM snorted. He was more than used to his charge's hate of being coddled. But he helped him sit up and then moved him over enough that he could rest against a tree trunk. Coming back a few moments later, he began to rinse the cuts as Incacha, reins dragging on the ground, ambled over and began to nuzzle Blair's hair.  
  
Reaching up, Blair ran a hand over Incacha's jaw and asked, "What spooked us, huh, baby?"  
  
"Just someone trying to shoot you," GM said casually as he bandaged the cut arm.  
  
Shocked, and not too sure he'd heard correctly, Blair said, "Excuse me? What did you just say?"  
  
"You heard me. It was a rifle and best I could tell, just missed you."  
  
"I didn't...I didn't hear anything."  
  
GM kept his head down, concentrating on the task at hand while continuing the casual tone. "S'pect your mind was elsewhere, which is why 'Cha got the best of you."  
  
"It could have been an accident," Blair said peevishly.  
  
"Oh, sure. Just some hunter that fires once and takes off. Right."  
  
"Humph."  
  
GM chuckled and continued his work. Finally he sat back and said, "That'll hold you 'til we get back. You feel up to riding?"  
  
"Hell, yeah. I bounced, didn't I?"  
  
"Yep. By my count, a good three times."  
  
"What? Only three? I'm getting old."  
  
"Well, I'd have to agree 'cuz you used to get a good five or six bounces when you were maybe nineteen. But age has a way of slowing us down a mite. Take it from me. I don't hardly bounce at all anymore. Just drop like a lead balloon."  
  
Blair barked out a laugh even as he held out his arm so that GM could help him up. Unfortunately, the world chose that moment to tilt on its axis and Blair swayed before falling heavily against GM. "Wow," he said, slightly dazed. "Did you feel that? The world just tipped."  
  
GM raised one bushy, expressive eyebrow, "Yeah, it was the world's fault, all right." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a slim cell phone. Flipping it open he hit a number and seconds later said, "Will, I found him...No, he's not but someone took a potshot at him and he went down. Send the wagon and call Doc Jones…Yeah, let 'em know. They'll want to come...and call the sheriff." He tucked the phone back into his pocket before letting Blair gently down again.  
  
Blair rested his head back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes. Settling in beside him, their shoulders touching, GM asked softly, "You want to talk about it?"  
  
He lifted his head to look at GM and matching pairs of blue eyes studied each other; one, sympathetic, the other, uncertain. Finally, Blair turned away. "Nothing to talk about."  
  
"Don't think so, Boss. I followed you two." At Blair's panicked look, he added quickly, "Now don't get yourself in a dither. When I saw the way things were going, I hightailed it outta there. But when you drove out like the devil hisself was chasing you, I knew something went wrong 'tween you two."  
  
He plucked a blade of grass, stuck it in his mouth and added, "I'm willing to listen."  
  
***  
  
Blair slumped down as GM's gentle tone got to him. Rubbing his face, he said, "Shit. I… Oh, hell. He went crazy because…because…."  
  
Feeling ridiculous, he realized he couldn't finish. He was twenty-five, he'd been around the block and yet here he was, feeling like a idiot.  
  
GM squeezed his arm reassuringly and said, "Tell me, kid."  
  
Taking a deep breath, Blair said, "I...it was, you know...first time...with a… Oh, fuck."  
  
"He didn't know," GM guessed.  
  
Blair nodded miserably.  
  
GM looked at the young man who meant more to him than any other living being and knew he had to help, to find the right words; to do this right, but he needed a bit more information first.  
  
"Blair, did he--"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I see. Okay, that means you scared him good. Anyone with half a brain and good eyesight could see what was what with you two. He just assumed that you were gay, see? You gotta understand, it's different with men--"  
  
"Oh, for God's sake, I know that."  
  
"No, you don't. Anal sex is different, you gotta be careful, there's preparation needed, especially the first time. And well, a man like Ellison, he's not gonna go 'round, seducing young, straight men. You understand? You scared him. Pure and simple."  
  
"Scary me."  
  
"Now, Boss, stop pouting. It doesn't become you."  
  
Blair's lips twitched as he tried unsuccessfully to smother a grin. "You mind telling me how you know all this?"  
  
"Omniscient."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"You are okay...right?"  
  
"Apparently. We were in the water."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"Ah."  
  
Neither man could do it, contain it. They both exploded in laughter.  
  
A horn alerted them to the appearance of the ranch station wagon. It pulled up and Simon and Joel were out and running, Willy not far behind.  
  
Smiling, Blair and GM looked at each other as GM warned, "Prepare to be smothered."  
  
***  
  
The sheriff had come and gone after promising a full investigation and, while Simon and Joel waited downstairs, the doctor examined Blair. Wearing a blue t-shirt and sweat pants, he was sitting up in bed as Dr. Marvin Jones put his stethoscope back in his bag.  
  
"So," Blair asked hesitantly, "do I ride on Saturday?"  
  
Marvin smiled indulgently and said, "That depends on you. Stay in this bed until I say you can get up and maybe I'll certify you for the race."  
  
"Right. Bed. I can do that."  
  
Marvin Jones had been taking care of the Banks-Taggart-Sandburg family for the last fifteen years and he knew every single nuance of the young man he'd just finished examining. Blair's words said one thing, but Marvin knew damn he was really saying that there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that he'd stay down. Wagging a menacing finger at him, he lectured, "Now you listen to me, young man. You can get up to go to the bathroom but otherwise, you don't set foot out of this bed. I'll be back at two tomorrow afternoon and, if I'm satisfied, I'll certify, but if I have even a hint that you didn't follow my instructions--"  
  
Blair raised a surrendering hand. "Got it. Bed until tomorrow."  
  
"Good. I'll go down and break the news to Simon and Joel that you're going to live."  
  
***  
  
"Marv?" Simon stood at the bottom of the stairs, Joel pacing behind him. As Jones started down the steps, Simon repeated in a more demanding tone, "Marv?"  
  
"There's no concussion. He's bruised and battered, but otherwise, he's going to be fine. If he stays in bed until tomorrow, he can race."  
  
"Who the hell cares about a race?" Joel yelled. "Someone tried to kill our son!"  
  
"Okay, okay, Joel, relax," Simon soothed as he took Joel by the arm and led him into the living room.  
  
Calmer, but not by much, Joel said, "I say we pull Little Stogie."  
  
"You know Blair won't allow that. If he can ride, he will."  
  
"Damn. I hate this age of consent thing. Why couldn't he be seventeen again?"  
  
"Come on, let's go up and see him," Simon suggested. He turned to Marvin and held out his hand. "Thanks for the house call, buddy."  
  
"No problem. You'll get my highly inflated bill in the mail. I'll be back tomorrow to certify him."  
  
***  
  
Joel and Simon stood on either side of the bed and, with an exasperated look, Blair said, "Look Mom, Pops, Bud promises not to take the Model T again without permission, okay?"  
  
"Blair, this is serious. We don't want to race Little Stogie," Joel said.  
  
Blair turned to Simon. "Is that how you feel?"  
  
"If it means keeping you safe, yes."  
  
"So, what, I never race again? You never race a horse again? Because if we cave, that's what we're talking about."  
  
"Blair, all we care about is you."  
  
"Good. Then we race." He made a shooing motion with his hand. "Off you go so that I can actually do what the doc says and go to sleep."  
  
Both men looked at each other, shrugged, and walked to the door. Just as Blair slipped down under the covers and, as the door was about to close behind his fathers, he heard Joel mutter, "I want to know which of us is Mom and which is Pops."  
  
Smiling, Blair pulled the covers over his head.  
  
***  
  
Jim sat in his now darkened trailer, a glass of Chivas Regal in his hand.  
  
Damn, how had everything gone so bad, so fast? One minute, he'd had the world in his arms and the next - poof - gone.  
  
He should have known. Should have known.  
  
Blair was straight, and thus a virgin to what they'd…to what…. God damn it.  
  
Jim had always made sure his partners were experienced - always. You don't make those kind of errors, not in his business. He looked at his trembling hand. He could have hurt him thanks to have given into his emotions, his need to have Blair; to give to Blair; to be everything to Blair. He'd opened his senses wide and allowed the younger man to fill them….  
  
Pounding.  
  
Someone was pounding at the door. He staggered up and opened it to find a worried Paul on his step.  
  
"I thought you'd want to know that David just got a call from the house. That kid, Blair? He fell, was thrown, I guess. They have the doctor up there now--"  
  
He didn't get the chance to finish as Jim rushed past him and headed for his car.  
  
***  
  
Simon and Joel were coming down the stairs, Simon patiently explaining that he, meaning Joel, was definitely the mom, while he, meaning Simon, was most definitely the pop. Joel was arguing that no, Joel was the pop because he was taller, so Simon had to be the mom, when Sheila, Simon's secretary, opened the door to Jim.  
  
No one had ever called Simon a fool and when he'd heard about the shooting and that Blair was out on Incacha, he'd known something must have happened between Blair and Ellison. He'd been more than ready to kill the man, but now, seeing his panicked look and the absolute terror in his eyes, Simon figured that whatever had gone wrong was about to be fixed.  
  
"He's fine, Jim," he said quickly.  
  
Jim looked up at the two men, but didn't relax.  
  
"Would you like to see him?"  
  
"I...could I? For just a minute?"  
  
"Go ahead. Just up these stairs, turn right at the top. His room will be the second door on your left."  
  
"Thanks, Simon. Thanks."  
  
Jim took the steps three at a time.  
  
***  
  
Okay, Blair thought. Sleeping might not be possible after all. Hell, just how many lumps did this bed have anyway? He tried, in vain, to find that one comfortable spot, a place where his body could sink into and not hurt, but so far, no luck. His efforts were interrupted by someone knocking and quietly calling his name.  
  
Jim.  
  
Sitting up as quickly as his sore body would allow, he said, "Come on in. It's unlocked."  
  
The door opened and Jim peeked in, looking both worried and a great deal like a recalcitrant child. "I just heard and came right over. Are you--"  
  
"I'm fine. Bumps, bruises, the usual." He cocked his head, noticed the way Jim was hovering in the doorway, so added, "You can come all the way in, you know. It's safe." He indicated a chair by the window.  
  
Jim walked over and pushed the chair over to the bed as Blair watched, wide-eyed.  
  
"Uhm, Jim? I only meant for you to take the chair, not take the chair."  
  
Jim was already halfway down but did a marvelous job of catching himself and struggling upright. "God, sorry. I'll move it back."  
  
"Jim? Sit."  
  
Jim sat.  
  
"Good dog."  
  
Frowning, Jim looked at Blair while a smiling Blair stared right back at him.  
  
"I'm sorry," Jim finally said - at the same time as Blair. They both laughed a bit nervously even as Jim rubbed at his face. Finally he said, "Blair, you've got to help me make you understand."  
  
"It's okay, I do. You were scared."  
  
"Yes. Exactly."  
  
"You could have hurt me."  
  
"Yes. Exactly."  
  
"You made love to a gay jockey, only to find out he was straight."  
  
"Yes. Exactly," Jim said again.  
  
"You're deeply in love with said gay/straight jockey. Can't live without him."  
  
"Yes, exactly," Jim said before stopping to reexamine his words.  
  
Blair grinned, supremely happy with himself even as Jim's expression changed to one of shock as he tripped to how he'd been manipulated.  
  
"Damn it, Blair. This is serious," he said in a weak attempt to gain some control over the situation.  
  
Looking very smug, Blair said, "Yes. Exactly."  
  
Jim gave a disgusted shake of his head and tried again. "Look, you have to understand that things are different now that I know--"  
  
"You love me less just because up to this afternoon, I was straight?" Crossing his arms over his chest, he added, "I call that reverse discrimination."  
  
Jim gave an exaggerated sigh. "I'm not going to win this one, am I?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"I should just surrender?"  
  
"Lay down your arms. Fly the white flag."  
  
"But we go slow this time." Jim said it again for emphasis. "Slow."  
  
"Isn't it a little late for that? I hate to break it to you, man, but this horse is gone and the stable door ain't ever closing again."  
  
"We could try," Jim almost pleaded. "Start over. Go slow. A few quiet dates, a tasteful seduction and then it happens right."  
  
"Man, you are fucking unbelievable. It could never happen more right than it did. And I thought my seduction of you was very tasteful."  
  
Jim swiped a hand over his face. "I'm losing again. I'm fucking losing again."  
  
"Your life story from now on, my man. From now on."  
  
"Your fall…was that because of what I...what happened?"  
  
"Not unless you shot at me."  
  
"What?" Jim said, horrified. He jumped up and started pacing and muttering as if Blair weren't even there. "I should have been there, this never would have happened if I'd been there...not leaving his side again...no way--"  
  
"Get over it, Jim. Hell, you're worse than Simon and Joel put together."  
  
Looking only slightly penitent, Jim sat down and reached for Blair's hand. "Sorry," he said softly. "Sorry I wasn't with you."  
  
"Me too. You'd have cushioned my fall."  
  
"Jerk."  
  
Blair grinned and, for the next few minutes, they simply stared at each other and smiled foolishly. Finally Jim let go and made to get up. "I should be going. Let you rest."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I...mm…you need sleep."  
  
"Yeah, and I could sleep pretty damn fine if, say, for instance, you were sleeping right next to me."  
  
"You mean stay here - with you?"  
  
"Unless you prefer sleeping with Simon and Joel. Crowded, but whatever floats your boat."  
  
"I don't know," Jim said. "What about Simon and Joel?"  
  
"God, you are going to be a handful. Strip down and get in here. It's late, I'm tired, I hurt and I bet you're way more comfortable than this lumpy bed."  
  
Since it was exactly what Jim wanted to do - he stripped. When his clothes were neatly folded over the back of the chair, Blair swept back the covers in a welcoming gesture and he climbed in.  
  
Blair was happy to discover that he'd been right. Jim was way more comfortable than the lumpy bed.  
  
***  
  
"He's still up there."  
  
"Yes, Simon, he is. And I expect he'll stay up there. Now let’s go to bed."  
  
"But--"  
  
"No buts. Bed. And butts."  
  
"Damn, I love it when you talk dirty."  
  
***  
  
"Shit, you're an octopus. Just how many arms and legs do you have?" Jim asked around a yawn. He looked down at Blair and smiled. It was kind of nice waking up with a short jockey wrapped around him like a pretzel.  
  
"You're probably counting your own. Mine are the dark brown ones. Do a re-count," Blair responded sleepily.  
  
Still grinning, Jim rested his cheek on the top of Blair's head. His hair tickled, but in a good way, leading Jim to realize that he really loved long hair on a sexy guy. Well, this sexy guy, anyway. "So what do we do today?" he asked. "I'm not scheduled for anything since they're doing exteriors and second unit work."  
  
Blair gave a little humming sound right before he began giving serious attention to Jim's right nipple. Which, like his cock, perked right up. A moment later, Blair stopped, which forced a groan out of Jim.  
  
"Bedridden," Blair mumbled. "But we'll probably come up with something to do."  
  
He went back to loving Jim's nipple.  
  
"Oh, yeah," Jim hissed out. "We can…certainly come up with something for a bedridden jockey."  
  
Blair lifted his head and grinned wickedly. "I prefer Jim-ridden."  
  
"I'm in love with a sex slut."  
  
"Poor you. You have my sympathy."  
  
"Thank you." Jim promptly pushed Blair's head back down, aiming him toward his other nipple. Fortunately, Blair had his own ideas and began to move down Jim's body, licking and stroking every inch of skin he could reach while making that same humming noise. Jim thought he could come just from the sound - the vibration of it.  
  
Damn, it was fucking incredible. His whole body could feel the sound and it was like a small electronic device attached to his skin, sending little jolts of pleasure into him. The jolt traveled through every muscle, artery and nerve until it narrowed to a laser point and shot directly to his dick.  
  
Do not pass go - do not collect $200.  
  
Blair was teasing it, his tongue dancing around the head and up the side, driving Jim insane. Keeping his enhanced senses in mind, Blair knew exactly what to do to him and, as a result, was making love to him within an inch of his life; something no one had ever done before.  
  
Then Blair took him into his mouth, took his cock, and God Damn, he was still humming and sucking and he had him down his throat and it was constricting and Jim couldn't stop. He had to thrust deep, hard and fast, his hands moving to capture Blair's head and hold it as he bucked, feeling those vibrations again as they traveled in waves, moving up and down his body. His head fell back and he arched and thrust one last time, Blair's name coming as he spurted deep and long with the most intense orgasm of his life.  
  
***  
  
He woke up thanks to a tongue that seemed to be trying hard to move into his mouth. It shouldn't take this much energy so maybe he should help? Yeah, that's the ticket. So he did.  
  
He could taste himself on Blair, the combination of the two of them something he couldn't get enough of. He desperately wanted to touch Blair but found that he was unable to move, to raise arms that weighed a ton, so he just lay there, letting Blair have his way with his mouth, which was just fine with him until a knock and a voice brought him back to Earth.  
  
"Blair? We're sending breakfast up. Would that be for two?"  
  
Blair immediately flopped over on his back and, grinning, managed to get the covers up and over both of them just as the door opened and Joel peeked in. Jim ducked under the covers altogether, pulling a fine imitation of an ostrich.  
  
"So is it breakfast in bed for two and if so, how does the lump on your left like his eggs?"  
  
A muffled "Over easy," rumbled from deep undercover, causing both Blair and Joel to crack up.  
  
Finally Joel managed to contain himself enough to nod and say with a grin, "Right. Over easy."  
  
***  
  
Blair was true to his word and stayed in bed as he and Jim worked on the actor's senses. Blair had him use the working sounds of the ranch while standing on the balcony overlooking the property. Blair tested his range, control, and the depth of his abilities, before working on variations of every single test. His mind never seemed to stop and, in spite of being confined to bed, he really led Jim through his paces.  
  
At one point, Jim got frustrated as his sight and hearing slammed into each other, which resulted in Blair deciding that he was some sort of transistor radio with dials. According to Mr. Sony, Jim should be able to just turn them up or down as needed, but of course, Jim couldn't and was now looking around for something to throw at his tormentor. Unfortunately, Blair beat him to it and a pillow sailed through the air to smack Jim in the middle of his face.  
  
Startled, he spun around only to be stopped cold by Blair's angry words.  
  
"Damn it, Jim, will you listen to me? You've had these senses all your life and have been subconsciously controlling them - 'turning' them up or down as needed. They only controlled you when you suffered an overload of stimulation. Now sit down, shut the fuck up and do what I say."  
  
Jim stood there, mouth open, pillow in hand. Finally he said, "Was that supposed to put me in my place?"  
  
"Actually, that was my cheerleader speech. You don't want to see me mad, Jim."  
  
Jim pretended to shake in fear - even as he walked over to the bed and sat down. And shut up.  
  
They started again.  
  
One frustrating hour later, Jim got it.  
  
***  
  
With a beautiful smile spreading across his face, Jim said, "My God, it worked. It actually worked. I can choose what to hear and follow a sound to the sight."  
  
One eyebrow arching up into his hairline, Blair said dryly, "Gosh, no kidding? That's amazing and…you're welcome."  
  
Jim stepped back into the room from the balcony, knelt on the bed, captured Blair's face between his hands and kissed him completely and thoroughly. When he finally pulled away, he whispered, "Thank you."  
  
***  
  
Dr. Jones arrived promptly at two and, after finding his patient in bed and in excellent spirits, pronounced him fit to ride. He signed the required certification papers which would be delivered to the Jockey Club by GM later that afternoon.  
  
Just before taking his leave, Marvin handed Jim a prescription pad. "Would you mind? For my wife," he said apologetically.  
  
Taking it, Jim asked, "What's her name?"  
  
With an embarrassed cough, he said, "Er, uhm, M.a.r.v.i.n."  
  
Hiding his grin, he signed it and, as he handed it back, said, "Lovely name for a woman."  
  
"Yes, well. I think I'll be going now." He wagged a finger at Blair and added, "You take care and don't overdo, young man."  
  
Blair saluted smartly. "Wouldn't dream of it."  
  
With a snort, Marvin took his leave and Blair tossed the covers back and practically jumped out of bed. Rubbing his hands together, he said, "Shower and then down to the stables and Little Stogie."  
  
Jim gave a helpless shake of his head. The guy was unbelievable.  
  
***  
  
Jim lounged against the door jam while Blair, GM and Will sat around the table in Blair's stable office and discussed the best way to protect Little Stogie between now and the race. He was pleased when one of the first things they decided was to not do their traveling that night, but rather limit their exposure by going in a single caravan in the morning. Blair had already talked with the local sheriff, who'd agreed to provide an armed escort. Jim had been surprised by that, but quickly realized that he shouldn't have been, not given Simon's wealth and Blair's popularity. Now all three men were discussing the trailer and equipment and how to ensure that they remained tamper-proof.  
  
Listening to their ideas and plans, Jim realized that the dangers in racing were more varied than just the possibility of a fall, and it was obvious that Blair and his team knew exactly what they were doing. One thing that puzzled him, however, was how many times the name, "Alex Barnes" came up in the discussion. Jim made a mental note to ask Blair about the man when they were alone.  
  
"So that's it then? We've covered everything?"  
  
Jim straightened as he realized the meeting was coming to an end.  
  
"Think so, Boss," GM answered. "I think we're as ready as we'll ever be."  
  
"Okay then. Let's get cracking."  
  
Will and GM pushed back their chairs and made their exits, both nodding at Jim as they passed him on their way out. Blair walked over and, grinning, asked, "You mind if I check in on Little Stogie again?"  
  
"Not at all. Let's go."  
  
A few minutes later, they were in Little Stogie's stall and Blair was rubbing him along his jaw, Jim standing a few feet away, content to watch. The stables were cool, dark and quiet, Little Stogie having been isolated to the far end for his protection.  
  
Since, in effect, they were alone, Jim decided now was the time to quiz Blair on Barnes. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he said in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner, "So, tell me about this Alex Barnes. Is he really a suspect in all this?"  
  
Blair now had one of the grooming brushes and was absently running it down Little Stogie's flank and, at Jim's question, said, "Well, it's possible. Probable even. Barnes is rich and wants to be richer. He and Simon have been serious business rivals for the last ten years. He's tough, doesn't much care how he gets something done, as long as it happens. So far, he's lost every battle with Simon and, in the last four years, has lost every race to me."  
  
Blair paused, moved around to the other side of the horse and, brushing in earnest, said softly, "A little over four years ago I started seeing his daughter, Alexis. Rich, spoiled, beautiful, an artist." He chuckled in a way that was far from humorous as he added, "For a while, I thought I was in love with her. Things were good and Simon and Alex even began a project together. The news media started hinting at a possible merger, using our relationship as the catalyst."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"It…ended, and the project fell through, which resulted in Alex losing a great deal of money. We didn't and he declared war."  
  
Jim heard what no one else could have, namely the speeding up of Blair's heart, and knew that he wasn't getting the whole story. Moving up behind him, he placed a hand on Blair's arm to stop the almost violent brushing and asked, "Why do I get the feeling you just did some judicious editing?"  
  
Blair stiffened and gently disengaged himself before stepping away from both Jim and the horse. Unable to meet Jim's gaze, he moved to the front of the horse and began petting him almost absently.  
  
"Blair, please? Tell me."  
  
Blair shrugged. "What can I say? I was in love and I thought the world began and ended with Alexis. I was twenty, almost twenty-one, she was twenty-six. I thought...I thought she felt the same."  
  
"But she didn't?"  
  
Blair's hand slowed, "Oh, I suppose she felt as much as she was capable of feeling, but you see, it turned out that it had never been about us."  
  
"It was business," Jim guessed.  
  
"That was part of it...but not all of it. It turned out that Alexis and her father…they had a strange relationship. I...what Alexis had, he wanted and she had no trouble sharing." He gave a small uneasy shrug as he added in an even softer tone, "She even…encouraged him."  
  
A kind of coldness seeped into Jim as Blair's words hung in the air above them.  
  
"Blair--"  
  
"It ended one night," he said as if Jim hadn't spoken, "following a race. She invited me upstairs to her suite…and he was there. They made me…an offer, which I turned down…and that ended our relationship and engagement." He looked up and at Jim then as he added, "See, it was just a game to them and I was the prize, along with the merger."  
  
His expression hardened then, but Jim could see what others wouldn't - hear what others couldn't.  
  
"I never told Simon or Joel. They were both glad it ended because they'd never liked her. I kept it a secret - until now." He glanced up. "And it needs to remain just that: a secret, Jim."  
  
"I think you're making a mistake in not telling them, but that's your decision and I'll respect it." He took a tentative step closer. "Funny how I seem to have this need to hold you right now. Would you mind?"  
  
Ducking his head and hiding a sudden smile, Blair said, "I'm sure that could be arranged, but let me check with my agent first. Never make a move without his approval."  
  
Gently pulling Little Stogie's head up, Blair started whispering in the animal's ear - and damn if the horse didn't bob its head up and down in agreement. Eventually, Blair smiled, nodded, kissed Little Stogie's muzzle, and said, "My agent is all for it."  
  
Wrapping his arms around him, Jim still had the niggling feeling that Blair still hadn't told him everything about that night. But he would - eventually.  
  
***  
  
By six that evening, Jim was in a tux and waiting for Blair. When they'd arrived back at the house, it was to a heavy discussion as to whether any of them should even go to the dance, with Simon, Joel and Jim landing on the side of not going and keeping Blair safe. They'd lost, as evidenced by the fact that here he was, standing in front of the mirror and giving his tie a final adjustment.  
  
Jim couldn't help but wonder how three men with a combined age of one hundred and twenty-five years, a combined weight of over seven hundred pounds, and with heights ranging from Jim's six feet to Simon's six feet-five inches, could lose so badly to a five foot-seven inch, twenty-five year old weighing in at about a hundred and thirty pounds soaking wet.  
  
Because they were pitiful and Blair was actually the alpha male, that was how.  
  
Of course, Simon was ex-Covert Ops, which made him a handy guy to have around. Jim had grown up in the Bronx and clawed his way up and out so was no stranger to fists or weapons himself, and, as it turned out, gentle Joel, landscape artist extraordinaire, just happened to be a martial arts expert. Between the three of them, Blair, no slouch himself in the self-defense arena, would be safe.  
  
Period.  
  
And while Jim wasn't as comfortable with his senses as Blair seemed to be, the fact was he had them and, according to Blair, he was a sentinel, a guardian. So be it.  
  
Tonight and tomorrow, he'd use this so-called gift to guard Blair. No one would touch him, no one would hurt him.  
  
Not on this Sentinel's watch.  
  
***  
  
The Aspen Ball was in full swing when they arrived, the cream of Cascade's crop, dressed in all their glory, dancing, eating, drinking and chatting happily away. Business, politics and the race seemed to be the prime topics of conversation and Jim had to remember the dials - thanks to a sharp poke in the ribs by Blair - in order not to hear all of it. The one thing he did get from the snippets of talk was something he already knew: that Saturday's Sweepstakes would have an impressive field of horses and jockeys; the greatest in the world, with the most powerful and prestigious owners and consortiums in the world of racing backing them. It wasn't the Kentucky Derby, but it was close.  
  
Simon was immediately pulled away by the Mayor, but not before Simon introduced him to Jim. Joel was seduced away by one of his landscaping colleagues in order to discuss the traits of a certain ivy - all of which left Jim and Blair alone at the buffet table - something Jim was very happy about. He was hungry, but he also had Blair to himself as they moved around the table, filling their plates. Unfortunately, it didn't last long. Jim had barely managed his first bite of Beef Wellington when Joel reappeared and, with a puppy dog look that would have done Blair proud, asked if they'd join him. Seemed he had several "fans just dying to meet you, Jim."  
  
Giving him a little bump with his hip, Blair said, "Go on, you'll love Joel's friends. I'll catch up after one more go 'round with the buffet table."  
  
Both Jim's and Joel's discomfort at the idea of leaving Blair alone must have shown on their faces, because Blair rolled his eyes and added, "I'm perfectly safe here and you know it, Joel. The security is good, we're among friends, and," he grinned at Jim, "I have an ace in the hole. So go on and I'll join you shortly."  
  
"I guess I can't argue with your logic, Blair," Joel said somewhat reluctantly.  
  
"And you know you can't, Jim. Can you?" Blair asked, eyes twinkling.  
  
"Fine, fine. You win," Jim grumbled.  
  
Once Jim and Joel walked off, Blair found himself almost immediately surrounded by racing enthusiasts, all trying to get the inside track on the race.  
  
***  
  
Blair was hot, tired, and his jaw ached from the constant smiling. He and Jim had been visually connecting since Joel dragged him off thirty minutes ago, but thanks to Blair's friends and fans, he still hadn't joined the two men. At the moment, he decided he needed air more than he needed to Jim. Knowing that the patio would be full of smokers, he quickly ducked out a side door that led onto a small balcony that overlooked the track's famous rose garden.  
  
Once outside, he let the cool night air and scent of roses soothe him. For all his apparent confidence and control, it was the night before a major race and, with all that had happened in the last two days, he was feeling the responsibilities, both old and new. There was also the usual small wave of excitement and fear that he always experienced the night before a big event.  
  
Blair raced for the enjoyment, but he was no fool, he also raced to win. He was first and foremost an athlete, trained and conditioned. Winning was great, but it was also his primary method of thanking Simon and Joel for all that they'd given him over the years. And, if he were honest with himself, and he always was, winning was a way to give himself something. Something that wasn't always easy to define. A purpose, maybe, or a reason to be?  
  
The truth was, until his breakup with Alexis, racing hadn't been his priority…school had. But in a single night, Alexis and her father had managed to take away his sense of self worth, making him feel, if only briefly, like nothing more than an object; a chess piece in their sadistic, sexual games.  
  
Simon and Joel had given him so much over the years, but there'd been one thing they'd been unable to provide: information about his father. And yes, as he'd grown older, he'd wanted to know what had happened to him, who he'd been, but evidently, all Naomi had ever shared with Simon and Joel was that he'd been a wonderful "boy who'd been taken too soon."  
  
But that night, Alex Barnes had provided him with a chunk missing information on the circumstances surrounding his parentage. And apparently, his mother had never been married.  
  
Not that he'd called him a bastard. No, Alex Barnes had used a different word. He'd told him he was nothing more than a mongrel because his mother hadn't even known who'd impregnated her. It seemed that Alex had done his homework on Naomi and her past and, that night, had shared it all. Shared things that Blair doubted Simon and Joel even knew about his mother or how he'd come to be conceived. Oh, yes, Alex Barnes had told him everything, and Blair had known that he'd been hearing the truth. He'd also accepted the fact that he'd never share what he'd learned with another soul. He would never share the venom of that night, of the words spit out like sharp weapons intended to fatally wound, to cut, slice and tear at his heart, dignity, and his sense of self.  
  
He'd made another promise that night as well. He'd promised himself that no one would ever know of the vow he'd made, the one he'd hissed out at Alexis and her father after refusing their advances.  
  
That night, he'd sworn that Alex would never win another race and that he would do everything in his power to ensure that Simon's company would crush Barnes. Then he'd left, the sound of their laughter ringing in his ears.  
  
Alex Barnes wasn't laughing now. Blair had won every race that included a horse from the Barnes Stables and Simon had stayed ahead of Barnes, fending off any and all take-over attempts, building his power base, all with Blair's helpful suggestions.  
  
No, Alex Barnes wasn't laughing now, which was why Blair knew, in spite of what he'd told GM, that Barnes would do anything to get what he wanted, which was to win.  
  
The door behind him opened, the sounds of the ball intruding on Blair's thoughts. Figuring that it was Jim, he turned around, a smile on his face.  
  
But it wasn't Jim. Instead, the man stepping onto the balcony was…Alex Barnes.  
  
"Blair."  
  
***  
  
It seemed to Jim that in the last thirty minutes or so, he'd been introduced to every important member of Cascade society and shaken more hands, posed with more wives and daughters than a politician running for office. But through it all, he'd managed to keep his senses focused on Blair, catching his eye every few minutes, listening to his voice, honing in on its velvety tones and clinging to it like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood. But then Joel had introduced him to a woman swimming in expensive perfume and, for a few precious minutes, the only thing that existed was the cloying odor of the cologne. When he'd finally managed to center himself, he'd immediately looked toward the far corner of the ballroom where Blair had been surrounded by friends, only to find him gone. He couldn't have explained why that worried him, but the sudden shiver that ran down his spine set off a slew of alarm bells.  
  
Shooting an apologetic look at Joel, Jim extricated himself from the fawning crowd with only one goal: to find Blair.  
  
He managed only a few steps away before Joel touched his arm. "Is something wrong?"  
  
Gaze skimming over the crowd, Jim said uneasily, "Blair - I've lost him. I think…I think there's something wrong."  
  
That was all Joel needed to hear. "All right, you start looking for him while I track Simon down."  
  
Jim simply nodded even as he began to filter out sounds and smells….  
  
***  
  
Blair had no intention of staying out on the balcony with Alex Barnes so quickly said, "Excuse me, I'm going back inside. Enjoy the night air."  
  
Evidently, Barnes had other ideas. He was a big man, standing easily as tall as Simon but outweighing both Simon and Joel. Even so, thanks to a personal trainer, he was in excellent shape for a man his age; hell, for any man. His blond hair was cropped short and accentuated the hard, angular planes of his handsome face. Cold, icy blue eyes added to the overall impression of hardness and, just like his daughter, gave nothing away. At the moment, the cold gaze was moving slowly and insolently over Blair's body.  
  
"I just want a few minutes. Surely you can spare that?" Alex said with what Blair assumed was his version of a disarming smile.  
  
"I don't think so." Blair made a move to pass, but Barnes effectively blocked the door. He put out a restraining hand and connected with Blair's arm, which he grabbed, fingers digging into Blair.  
  
"The offer is still open and I'll even sweeten the pot."  
  
"Take-your-hand-off-my-arm…now."  
  
"I can make life very good for you, Blair, or very bad. Your choice."  
  
Blair couldn't help it, he laughed. "Did you get that line out of an old forties 'B' movie, Alex?" Leaning forward, his own eyes cold, voice colder still, he hissed out, "The only thing you're going to do is keep on losing…over and over again…because I always keep my promises. Always."  
  
Barnes eyes narrowed dangerously, his jaw clenching as his fingers dug deeper into Blair's arm. Blair didn't even wince.  
  
"You listen to me," Barnes spat out. "You're nothing. You're less than nothing, and why I want you is a mystery, but I do. So understand this: you refuse me a second time and you will never know a moment’s peace again, and if you race tomorrow, you'll never cross that finish line alive."  
  
"Is that all?"  
  
"No." Barnes used his considerable weight and strength to swing Blair around so that he hit the wall behind him face first, hard, the side of his head slamming into the concrete with enough force to almost knock him out. As he struggled to clear his head and fight back, Barnes blanketed his body and trapped his arms against the wall. The older man pressed in hard, wrapped the fingers of one hand in Blair's ponytail and, with the other, grabbed Blair's genitals. He squeezed viciously, causing Blair to bite back a groan. Blair tried to kick back, but Barnes was pressing in too close and Blair had little to no wiggle-room.  
  
Barnes squeezed again, even harder, as he thrust into Blair in a parody of love-making. The movement smashed Blair into the wall with each violent thrust. Lips close to Blair's ear, he hissed, "I could take you now. Use you. Discard you. I could kill you this instant; snap your neck like a twig. So tell me, Blair; tell me who has the power now? Tell me. " He slammed him into the wall again as he repeated, "Tell me, Blair. Who…has…the… power?"  
  
***  
  
Jim was concentrating so hard, he never noticed the moment Joel rejoined him, Simon in tow. He was still filtering out as many extraneous sounds as possible, trying to find that voice….  
  
"Jim?" Simon asked while, at the same time, placing a hand on Jim's shoulder.  
  
Jim waved an impatient hand at the man even as he cocked his head, concentrated…and…yes, there….  
  
 _"I could take you now. Use you. Discard you. I could kill you this instant; snap your neck like a twig. So tell me, Blair; tell me who has the power now? Tell me. " He slammed him into the wall again as he repeated, "Tell me, Blair. Who…has…the… power?"_  
  
Jim took off, shouldering his way through the crowds, Simon and Joel on his heels.  
  
And then he heard the sound of bones breaking....  
  
***  
  
Blair surprised Barnes by thrusting back with his hips, which led the older man to believe Blair was reacting in pleasure. He relaxed just enough that Blair was able to use it to his advantage. He jerked his head back with enough force to smash Barnes' nose. Clutching at it, Barnes staggered back.  
  
Blair pushed painfully away from the wall and reached for the door, but Barnes wasn't done. With a bloody hand, he grabbed at Blair's now loose hair and yanked him back. Ignoring the pain, Blair twisted around, kicked out and connected with Barnes' knee. At the same moment, the balcony doors were pushed open and Jim, Simon and Joel burst onto the balcony.  
  
Barnes released Blair so fast, he literally stumbled back but managed to keep his balance. He bent over at the waist, hands on thighs, breath coming in jerky pants as he gasped out, "Hi, guys."  
  
***  
  
Jim, with a nod at Simon, advanced on Barnes even as Joel moved toward Blair.  
  
"Leave him alone," Blair rasped out as he slowly straightened. He stepped between Barnes and Jim and faced his enemy. "You never had the power - I know that now. You can't touch me, and tomorrow, Little Stogie and I will blow you out of the water." He turned and walked back out into the ballroom, leaving his guardians no choice but to follow.  
  
***  
  
Once back in the ballroom, Jim, Simon and Joel surrounded him, knowing he wouldn't want to be seen, wouldn't want to answer any questions as they made their way out and away from the Aspen Ball, with Jim the only one who knew that Alex Barnes was still on the balcony, silent and still.  
  
***  
  
"We need to call the police, Blair," Simon stated firmly.  
  
"No."  
  
They were in limo, on their way home, Joel and Simon in the seats facing Jim and Blair. Joel coughed politely before saying softly, "Blair, he--"  
  
"No." Blair adjusted the icepack he held to the side of his face and wished he had one more, for another very sore area. On the other hand, that would bring forth more questions, none of which he was inclined to answer. No one needed to know more than they did now.  
  
Damn, his whole body hurt, but they didn't need to know that either.  
  
***  
  
Jim tried not to watch Blair, but it was damn hard. He knew he was in pain, and thanks to his senses, knew more than he wanted to about where some of it was located. But of even greater concern was Blair's demeanor. He seemed to be holding himself in, setting barriers up around himself. At the moment, he was sitting in the far corner of the seat, stiff and unyielding, his body language screaming, "Leave me alone."  
  
"Blair, it's important that the police be informed," Simon persevered doggedly.  
  
"I said no, and I mean no. It was a fight, nothing more."  
  
"All right, but at least let me get more help for tomorrow. I know Captain Finkleman of Major Crime and I've no doubt that we can get more security. The current Sheriff escort will only be able to see us to the county line, you know that, and now it's not enough."  
  
Blair gave him a grudging nod. "Fine."  
  
Simon searched his son's face and, while seeing the usual stubbornness, he also found something else - something that scared the hell out of him. He knew his son, understood him as few others could, which was why every alarm he possessed was going off. Something more had gone on out on that balcony and, whatever it was, it had damaged Blair. Simon could see the pain of it in his eyes and it scared him.  
  
He'd always suspected there'd been more behind Blair's breakup with Alexis but had never been able to get anything out of his son - until now - now when Blair was trying so hard to hide it from them.  
  
He reached for Joel's hand.  
  
***  
  
Somehow, Blair made it upstairs while assuring his fathers that he was fine. He didn't seem to notice Jim, who followed him up.  
  
Once inside the safety of his room, everything seemed to catch up at once and he was paralyzed – until Jim, with gentle hands, began to carefully undress him. He gave into it, let Jim guide into the bathroom, watched dully as the shower was turned on, the water temperature adjusted, and then as Jim removed his own tux. When he was done, he guided Blair into the large stall, stepping in behind him.  
  
Jim let the warm water and steam do its work, the mist wrapping around both of them. When he sensed Blair's cramped muscles begin to loosen, he took up the washcloth and soap and began to lovingly wash Blair. The younger man remained unmoving throughout Jim's ministrations, his head lowered so that the mass of hair effectively hid his face. Using the soapy cloth, Jim lightly massaged Blair's shoulders and upper arms before skimming carefully over the old and new bruises in order to work gently on tense back muscles. As he worked, he had to stamp down on his own anger at seeing the physical evidence of what had happened on that balcony.  
  
He washed Blair's hair and, ever so gradually Blair moved back, allowing skin to touch skin. As he did, and as Jim's hands continued to gently clean and massage, the truth penetrated his hurt, fogged brain; the truth that Jim knew - and that knowing didn't matter because Blair mattered more.  
  
Blair surrendered the last of his pride and fear and allowed himself to rest back against the smooth, strong chest while he silently prayed that Jim would hold him. For some reason, he wasn't surprised when the older man did just that.  
  
Holding him close, lips to Blair's temple, Jim whispered, "I love you."  
  
"Thank you," Blair choked out.  
  
***  
The morning of the race dawned clear and warm but by then, the caravan from Banks Folly had already been on the road for thirty minutes. Everyone felt fairly secure, thanks to the two patrol cars, one at each end of the line of vehicles, patrol cars that would now see them all the way to the track.  
  
Jim, Blair and GM were in the huge horse transport with Little Stogie, GM sitting in one chair, a rifle across his lap while Blair stood with Little Stogie in his stall, soothing the animal whose only weakness was his hatred of travel. Jim stood just outside the stall, content again merely to watch.  
  
For GM's part, he'd taken one look at Blair that morning and, after doing considerable reading between the lines, headed back to his office and grabbed his hunting rifle off the wall. He was no fool.  
  
***  
  
The two hour plus trip to the racetrack proved uneventful and Jim was now watching as Little Stogie was led from the trailer and into his new home-away-from-home by Blair. There were two guards - both very trustworthy according to Simon - assigned to the horse; their job to ensure that no one got within ten feet of him.  
  
It was obvious to Jim that the animal knew exactly what the day held for him. He nearly pranced into his stall, tail arched high, nose lifted to the air in order to take in the scents of race day. He twitched in anticipation, his prance carrying a bit of an edge as his nostrils flared with the excitement. Even to Jim's unpracticed eye, Little Stogie was ready.  
  
***  
  
"He's settled, GM. I need to head over to the Jockey Room and check in."  
  
"You got it, Boss. We're on top of things. You go on."  
  
Waving, Blair grabbed Jim's arm and they headed out of the stables. Once outside, Blair pulled him aside. "You've got to prepare yourself for all the sounds, colors, and smells. Use those dials, okay?" he whispered.  
  
"Blair, I'm fine."  
  
Searching his face and looking for any telltale signs of pain or stress, he let out a sigh of relief when all he found were a pair of calm, loving eyes gazing down at him. Grinning, he said, "By George, I think he's got it."  
  
"Brat."  
  
"That's jockey-brat to you."  
  
Feet crunching the straw underfoot, they made their way across the paddock toward the Jockey Club. Jim had the strongest desire to take Blair's hand but, instead, asked, "So, what does someone say to wish a jockey good luck? I somehow don't think break a--"  
  
Blair immediately clamped his hand over Jim's mouth, "Don't even think it, Jim."  
  
Jim mumbled against Blair's palm, causing the younger man to finally remove said hand.  
  
Grinning, Jim asked, "So what do I say?"  
  
"Kick ass."  
  
"Kiss ass? That doesn't sound very…sporty."  
  
Laughing, Blair poked him in the ribs as he said, "Kick ass, you ass."  
  
Checking that they were, for all intents and purposes, alone, Jim leaned down and dropped a quick kiss on Blair's lips.  
  
Running a finger over his bottom lip after Jim stepped back, Blair narrowed his eyes and said, "That wasn't you kissing an ass, was it?"  
  
***  
  
Joel and Simon sat nervously in their private box surrounded by their friends. They always stayed close to each other when Blair raced, never more than an arm's length away. Today, their nerves were on high alert, both acutely aware how different today was from all other race days.  
  
Jim was stationed above them, on an outside deck, his senses alert, eyes constantly searching for anything out of place. He strained to filter out unnecessary sounds, cataloguing as he did and discarding those he deemed normal.  
  
A few feet away, GM lounged against the wall, toothpick in his mouth, rifle resting in his arms. He’d taken note of the odd way Ellison seemed to hear and see things beyond the normal range and knew that being with him was the place to be if they were going to watch out for, and protect, Blair.  
  
***  
  
Alex Barnes was alone in his private box, his face bandaged, his eyes black and blue. He didn't feel any pain; he was too intent on watching the track. In less than an hour, Blair Sandburg would be lying out on the same track: dead.  
  
He would have preferred to go down a different road, but last night, Blair had made his choice.  
  
***  
  
On the top deck, in a restricted area three levels above Jim, a man knelt in front of the railing, a black bag at his feet. He had an assignment today, one that he excelled in. He was, in fact, one of the best in the world. To those who had enough money to buy his services, he was known as the "Ice Man", and his job was to kill. Today his victim was a jockey who'd be wearing the blue and white silks of Banks Folly. He'd be riding number seven: Little Stogie.  
  
The assassin smiled.  
  
Number seven. Lucky for him; not so lucky for one young jockey. Not today anyway.  
  
End Part 2


	3. Chapter 3

Blair sat on the bench, his back wedged into the corner, head bowed. He held his riding crop loosely in his hand, was dressed and ready, having already gone through the weigh-in process and all other formalities. Now he and twelve other jockeys prepared to race; each in his own way. Some paced, some read, some listened to music, some prayed. Blair retreated. He moved deep within himself, visualizing the race, the course, his horse. He planned every move, worked his strategy for each of the approximate four-plus minutes he'd spend out on the track. He thought about his competition, both man and beast, balancing their strengths and weaknesses against his own even though he knew there was only one real threat; a horse named 'The General's Legion' - Alex Barnes' horse.  
  
The light over the door flicked on, signifying that it was time. The jockeys, Blair included, rose to their feet and were escorted outside. Lined up, they were led to their horses and their own crews. Each jockey was hiked up onto the saddle and quickly settled in.  
  
Last minute words were exchanged between trainers and riders and a few owners who preferred to watch the race from the outside rack. Will, taking GM's place, gave Blair a thumbs up and, in short order, Blair and Little Stogie were led out for the Parade of Champions.  
  
***  
  
The Ice Man reached down into his bag as the parade began. He pulled out three items and began to assemble them into a high-powered rifle with an equally high-powered scope.  
  
***  
  
Jim cocked his head as he heard an oddly familiar clicking sound, one heard often in every action thriller he'd made - a sound no one else would have heard. But he did, in spite of the sounds of the approaching race, the cheering crowd, and the announcer as he identified each horse, jockey and stable. Years of playing detectives and soldiers told him to concentrated his sense of smell, to weed out the scent of GM's rifle - until he found a similar scent from high above him.  
  
***  
  
As an edgy and excited Little Stogie was led into the starting gate, the Ice Man fitted the scope to his gun and took position.  
  
He was ready.  
  
***  
  
Jim moved away from the railing, his face a study in concentration. As he hurriedly headed for the elevator, GM followed.  
  
This was it.  
  
***  
  
Simon, sensing something, feeling the sudden unease, got up, patted Joel reassuringly, and headed out with one intention: to get to Jim.  
  
***  
  
Minutes after Simon left, Joel found his own uneasiness growing. He patted friends on the back, encouraged them to keep enjoying the food, but quickly made his exit. In the corridor, he turned left and headed for Alex Barnes' box.  
  
***  
  
Man and horse were ready. The sun was bright and unencumbered by clouds, the track fast, the jockeys practiced. Horses pawed the ground, eager for their release.  
  
Time seemed momentarily suspended as the crowd held their collective breaths and, just when they thought the moment couldn't last, the beep sounded, gates clanged open, and thirteen horses charged the track.  
  
The General's Legion took the early lead, followed closely by Nation's Pride and Silver Fox. As they came around the far turn, Little Stogie was on the rail, comfortable in eighth position. Blair was in total control, knees firm, head low, crop unused, his mind running the race ahead….  
  
***  
  
Jim heard the scope being fitted onto the weapon and picked up his speed, taking the steps three at a time, GM doing the same.  
  
***  
  
The Ice Man focused the scope and zeroed in on the rider in blue and white silks. Finger steady, he waited. He had orders not to fire until the jockey hit the straightaway and closed in on the finish line.  
  
He was to shoot to kill just when the win was within reach for Number Seven.  
  
He waited.  
  
He was a very patient man.  
  
***  
  
By the time the horses reached the Clubhouse turn, five of the thirteen were no longer in contention. The General's Legion was still in first with Silver Fox having moved into second and The Gum Drop Kid in third. Little Stogie moved away from the rail, dropping back a bit, but quickly making up for lost ground.  
  
***  
  
Jim was now one level below his quarry. Halfway up the final set of stairs, he stopped to focus on a single heartbeat that would tell him the man's precise position.  
  
He found it and raced up the steps.  
  
***  
  
Blair made his move coming out of the Clubhouse turn. He inched his butt up and began talking to Little Stogie in earnest, urging him forward, urging him to full speed.  
  
Little Stogie took off like a bat out of hell and the crowd reacted by jumping to their feet and cheering wildly. The amount of ground that Little Stogie had to cover to take the lead seemed insurmountable to those watching….  
  
As the five lead animals hit the straightaway, Little Stogie's stride widened, his head went down and still Blair left the crop unused.  
  
Little Stogie was fifth, then fourth...moving fast on the outside now…and then he was third…and second….  
  
***  
  
As Little Stogie closed in on his client's horse, the Ice Man tightened his finger on the trigger.  
  
***  
  
To the manic cheering of the crowds, Little Stogie caught…and charged ahead of…The General's Legion.  
  
***  
  
Jim reached the top level, turned to his right and spotted the assassin immediately. His vision narrowed down to the finger that was slowly starting to squeeze….  
  
He launched himself at the killer, body slamming into the man. He heard the rifle discharge as they fell to the concrete floor, rolled, and then the killer put a knee in Jim's gut. It was enough that Jim was forced to loosen his hold. The man scuttled back just as Jim, wincing, rolled over and pulled himself up into a crouching position, ready to tackle the guy again. Unfortunately, the killer pulled a handgun from his waistband, leveled it, took aim and....  
  
… GM fired.  
  
The killer, icy blue eyes wide with shock, toppled over, a bullet hole between his eyes, just as Simon charged up the stairs.  
  
Seeing the danger had been efficiently neutralized by GM, a panicked Jim turned to the railing as fear gripped his heart. He knew the rifle had been fired, the only question was - had the bullet found its intended victim.  
  
With the same fear in their hearts, GM and Simon stepped over the body and joined him, both hoping against hope that Jim had been in time.  
  
"There!" Jim said excitedly just as Blair and Little Stogie raced across the finish line in first place.  
  
***  
  
Numb, Alex Barnes watched Blair finish, the Gum Drop Kid in second and Silver Fox third. His own horse had lost steam and speed, finally crossing fourth place.  
  
Barnes got up, walked over to his jacket hanging on the coat tree near the door to his private box, pulled out his .38 and, his back to the track, ignoring the cheering crowds, he stuck the barrel of the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.  
  
***  
  
Joel heard the shot and lunged into Barnes' box only to skid to a stop in horror. Eyes wide with shock, he moved carefully over to the phone and dialed security.  
  
***  
  
Grinning like fools, all three men watched as Blair and Little Stogie took their victory lap as demanded by the wild crowd. Eventually though, reason prevailed and GM drawled, "Simon, you and Mr. Ellison better get Joel and head down to the Winner's Circle. I'll take care of everything up here."  
  
No one had to tell the two men twice.  
  
***  
  
The traditional horseshoe of roses graced Little Stogie's neck as he and Blair were led to the Winner's Circle. Blair's goggles were down around his neck, his racing cap in his hand. As they approached the Circle, he searched the crowd for his fathers and Jim, eyes bloodshot, the skin around them surrounded by grime.  
  
"Blair!"  
  
Hearing his name, he turned, a beautiful grin splitting his handsome face. At the same moment, several photographers began shooting, all capturing that one moment of supreme happiness; a moment that would be immortalized on the covers of Life, Time, People and Newsweek - not that Blair cared. At that moment, all he cared about were the three men walking toward him  
  
***  
  
Epilogue: One week later -  
  
The celebrations were over and so was the funeral.  
  
Alex Barnes had been buried with few mourners, none of whom, his beloved daughter, her exact location unknown, even by the family lawyers.  
  
The stock for Barnes & Company plummeted with the announcement of Barnes' suicide and took yet another dump when the report of the attempted murder on Blair hit the news. Simon set the ball in motion to purchase controlling interest in the sagging business; the merger that had been attempted four years ago finally coming to fruition.  
  
As the full story of Barnes' duplicity circulated, Simon wasn't surprised by the fact that three heroes emerged from the mess. Smiling, he sat in his study, newspapers strewn around him and, on every single one of them, the same faces stared back.  
  
His son, now declared the "Athlete of the Year" was earning his heroic badge for not only giving the greatest ride of his life, let alone in the history of the Sweepstakes, but as the man who'd known of a possible attempt on his life and rode in spite of it.  
  
The second face that stared up at him was Jim's. After all, the only thing better than a courageous and winning jockey, was the celebrity who'd saved his life. It was one thing for a famous action star to stop a killer, but then the world discovered that the dead man had been wanted by the FBI, CIA, Interpol, MI-5 and a few other agencies around the world. And finally, one face, mostly hidden by the Stetson that always seemed to get in the way anytime a photographer tried to take a photo of the man who'd actually killed the assassin: GM.  
  
Simon shook his head in disbelief. Outside the gates, cars and vans were still parked up and down the road, all eager to snap the million dollar photo of Blair, Jim or GM. The world was eating this up and making their lives miserable. Simon's only consolation was that by next week, it would undoubtedly be forgotten thanks to some new crisis.  
  
He folded the paper he'd just finished and sat back thoughtfully. The last week had seen Jim's movie finish up and peace returning to their world. The crew left, but Jim was still with them. Simon hadn't thought it possible, but in the last few days, Jim and Blair had fallen even deeper in love. Here on the ranch, they could be - and were - protected. They were free as long as they avoided the long camera lenses.  
  
Simon frowned then, because of course, all good things had to end, and tomorrow, Jim would leave - would return to California and his life of fame. Which meant that Blair was about to suffer another broken heart because long distance relationships never worked.  
  
He sighed heavily and got to his feet. It was late and Joel was waiting for him upstairs in their room.  
  
***  
  
Blair ran his hand through Jim's short hair before resting his cheek against the soft spikes. Tomorrow - no, scratch that, it was tomorrow, so - today - Jim would leave for Malibu and his life in Hollywood. So far, they'd been in firm denial of this fact, hadn't discussed his leaving. There'd been no talk of their future, just sex and laughter and long talks about themselves in an effort to get to truly know each other. It was easy to avoid discussions of the future - because deep down inside, Blair knew they didn't really have one.  
  
Jim was a star, Blair a jockey, which meant their worlds would rarely meet. And yes, Blair had to admit that it was safer that way. The world, no matter how much they loved Jim, simply wasn't ready to hear that he was gay and living with a man, even if that man was an award winning jockey.  
  
Knowing all of that, Blair had been preparing all week for this particular ending, working on behaving in a way that wouldn't make it more difficult for Jim, preparing to say all the right things, practicing the right words, the right way to say…goodbye.  
  
"Sure, Jim, of course we'll see each other. We'll write, email, phone, and get together as often as our schedules allow."  
  
Yep, sounded good. And of course, there was, "Need anything, any help with your senses, hey, I'm there man, no worries."  
  
Rehearsed. Practiced. He was ready. And, when the time came, he'd be able to say them, mean them - right up to the moment Jim actually left. Then…then he'd fall apart.  
  
It didn't seem fair somehow. To find the anchor he'd craved only to lose him because the world refused to accept two men in love. How crazy was that, anyway?  
  
"Penny for your thoughts."  
  
Blair smiled at his now-awake and soon to be ex-lover. "No way, my thoughts are worth a fortune. Cough it up or lose out."  
  
Jim lifted his hand and traced along Blair's strong jaw with one finger. He was pretty certain he knew exactly what Blair had been thinking, so said, "By the way, have I mentioned my deal with the studio?"  
  
"No, I don't think so."  
  
"I have this agreement that if I did one last action flick for them, I could then direct a pet project of mine."  
  
"Direct? You're actually going to direct?"  
  
Jim traced a line up the side of Blair's face, ending at one arched eyebrow. He smoothed out the small crease between both brows before saying, "Yep. In fact, I'll be not only directing, but starring - and it will be my last film in front of the camera." He rolled onto his side and resituated Blair before adding, "It's based on a book - a favorite of mine, one that's very special to me. So special, I bought the rights five years ago. Ever hear of 'The Front Runner'?"  
  
"Are you kidding? It's a great book, one of the first to bring a gay relationship into the mainstream. I can't believe you're going to be allowed to make it. I assume you're playing Harlan?"  
  
"That's my plan."  
  
"And Billy?"  
  
"Well, I've got my eye on a relative unknown - unknown as an actor anyway, but I think he'll be perfect. He has a natural talent, very photogenic, and the camera loves him. I'm just worried he might not be available."  
  
Jim changed positions again, this time turning over on his back and pulling Blair onto him. Smiling, he asked, "So…would you be available, Mr. Sandburg?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"You heard me. Would you?"  
  
Mouth hanging open - a condition very prevalent since Jim had come into his life - Blair simply stared.  
  
Chuckling, Jim tapped Blair's chin until he closed his mouth, then said, "I've arranged everything in the hopes that you'd consider this, so if you say yes, we have to be in Los Angeles by the fifteenth."  
  
"You and me? In a movie?" At Jim's happy nod, Blair said, "And just when did you stop taking your medications again?"  
  
Laughing outright, Jim said, "Come on, Blair, this is it. Our chance. We can be together, work together. No one gives a rat's ass if a director is gay. No one."  
  
Blair rolled away from Jim and sat up, his back to him. This was not in the script. He had no rehearsed speech for this one. He scratched his head and finally said, "Jim, I've got to think about this. This is a major life change, you know? I mean, my riding, school, the small detail of not being able to act… I can't just…."  
  
He let his voice trail off, counted to ten, then flopped back on the bed, his head at Jim's hip. Smiling, he said, "Okay, I've thought about it. Yes."  
  
"You putz."  
  
"Yep. But there's still the acting issue."  
  
"Trust me. You'll be a natural."  
  
***  
  
GM stood on the side of the big Georgian house and gazed up at Blair's room. He knew Ellison was up there now and knew that the man had made reservations for two when he'd changed his flight.  
  
Which meant Blair would be leaving. For good, unless he missed his guess. He couldn't deny that it was the right thing, that Jim was right for Blair. They were special together, hell, even he could see that. It was as if their meeting had been ordained.  
  
GM also knew that Jim Ellison would keep Blair safe. And yes, Blair would do the same for Ellison.  
  
He took off his hat and scratched the back of his head. Would they, perhaps, need a 'man Friday'? He didn't think he could bear to be apart from Blair.  
  
GM stuck his hat back on his head, glanced back up at Blair's room and whispered, "Good night, son."  
  
The End  -- Continued in the sequel "The Long Run"


End file.
